


Death Without Its Terrors

by Tabi_essentially



Series: Vast [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Chloe deserves agency, Connor & North (Detroit: Become Human) Friendship, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor deserves the entire range of emotions, Elijah Kamski tragic backstory, F/F, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, M/M, Markus is love, North deserves happiness, a/greysexual character (hint: it's kamski), badass!chloe, canon typical adult fear, canon typical suicidal ideology, kamski redemption, rk1k - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-09-14 00:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 46,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabi_essentially/pseuds/Tabi_essentially
Summary: Markus just wants to get to know Connor. Connor wants to get to know Connor, too, but  CyberLife is never going to leave them alone. Kidnapping Markus, hacking Connor in new and exciting ways, paying agents to undermine Jericho; it never ends. Elijah Kamski--or, more to the point, Chloe--might have a few secrets to bring CyberLife down for good. But those secrets unearth something inside of Connor that even he didn’t know was there, and it makes Amanda look like a flimsy piece of code in comparison.Also, Chloe has a crush on North.





	1. Glitch

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to New Input, Adjusting Directive; in fact it begins a few hours after the ending to that, so you should read that first if you want. :)

Hank had loaded his broken android and his broken android’s broken boyfriend into the back of the white van, where North, Josh and Simon were all waiting for them. Josh had done some wireless magic the whole time Connor had been in the megachurch, sitting back there with his eyes fluttering, almost completely silent.

Cameras flashed and drones followed them all the way back to DPD, converging and crowding as they made their way to the doors, huddled close together. Hank kept shouting at everyone to get back, let them through, one of them needed medical attention. ‘ _Medical attention_ ’ was kind of bullshit because what Markus needed was technical repairs, but whatever, it sounded good.

Once inside, with the doors closed behind them, Hank grabbed Connor and held him tight. Connor was still learning how to hug back, but even so, Hank could sense him looking over his shoulder at Markus retreating with North, Josh and Simon.

“Sorry to hold you back from your boyfriend,” Hank said.

Connor pulled away and tilted his head to the side, like Sumo did when he was trying to figure out some new sounds that were reaching his ears.

“Boyfriend?” Connor said. “No, Markus isn’t… He doesn’t feel feel that way. It’s not like… that.” Head still to one side, he left the words “Is it?” unspoken. “I suspect that people grow close under duress.”

“Sure.” Hank clapped him on the shoulder. “Anyway, that was great work in there. By which I mean, I’m not hearing about any fatalities, so if your mission was to grab Markus out of there and keep the public’s opinion of androids pretty good, then mission accomplished.”

Hank picked up one of the tablets lying on someone’s desk and read the first headline and lede:

**THE HOUND OF NEW JERICHO!  
Just a few moments ago, Android revolution leader RK200, or “Markus”, was rescued from a group of extremists by a police detective Android, an RK800 originally deployed by CyberLife to stop the spread of deviancy, who had apparently tracked him there.**

“Capitalizing ‘Android’ is a good sign,” Hank muttered, and swiped to the next headline:

**DEVIANT LEADER AND DEVIANT HUNTER SHARE INTIMATE MOMENT AFTER DARING RESCUE!  
In a plot twist that everyone is bound to love, CyberLife’s deviant hunter just rescued the deviant leader from captivity, and the two were seen embracing on the rooftop shortly after their dangerous escape!”**

Beneath it was a picture of Connor and Markus on the rooftop, Markus in stained white robes, mid-flap, Connor’s synthetic hair going wild. A thousand or so freed androids were silhouetted behind them. They were holding hands, _interfacing_ like a couple of horny teenagers in front of the world, faces pressed together. 

“Somewhere near a lonely frozen river, a reclusive sociopath with a god complex saw that image and nutted in his disturbingly short robe,” Hank said.

Connor’s LED spun yellow for a second. “That’s disgusting, Hank.”

Another swipe, the next headline:

**WANT TO MESS WITH DEVIANT LEADER? “NOT ON MY WATCH” SAYS BODYGUARD!  
The megachurch known as Rights Of Man has yet to comment on what, exactly, deviant android leader “Markus” was doing in there before DPD’s detective model android “Connor” freed him.**

Connor read over his shoulder, frowning. “It seems the media has already decided what we are. What if Markus doesn’t agree? What if I don’t? There’s too much emphasis on our interpersonal relationships. I feel that this will put undue pressure on both of us to be something we might not be.”

Hank turned toward him. “You be whatever you want, Connor. Be _with_ whoever you want. You don’t have to whore yourself out to make this look good, and neither does Markus.”

Connor went back to scanning the articles, which just kept pouring in, some of them even national now. He went entirely still, his LED yellow.

North and Markus joined them, followed by Josh and Simon.

Simon said, “I think fairly soon we’ll need to make a statement. Can we do that from here, Lieutenant Anderson? Or would that put too much focus on the DPD? We don’t want to seem as if we’re speaking for the department.”

“Good point,” Markus said.

Connor still hadn’t moved.

“What are the cops going to do?” North asked. “After the last two decades, do you think they’re really going to want to go backwards again? They’d better choose to be on the right side of history this time. And where else are we supposed to go?”

Connor _still_ hadn’t moved. Hank stepped closer toward him. There was a flicker of red.

“Connor?” he said, softly.

“Hank.” Connor’s voice was hoarse, staticky, like it was going offline.

Hank grabbed him by the arms. “Connor!”

“Hank. Cuff me.”

His heart stuttered. “What? Why would…”

Before Hank even made a move, North had tackled Connor, flipped him, and had her knee in his back.

“Cuffs! Now!” North snapped.

Simon tossed her a pair, and she clamped them on Connor’s wrists.

“Connor,” Markus said, approaching him slowly, even as North kept her knee in his back. “Connor, what’s going on?”

Connor turned his head to the side. His LED was solid red and he spoke through clenched teeth. “CyberLife is hacking me. If you don’t get me away from you, I’ll kill you. You need to shut me down.”

Hank and Markus said “No!” at the same time.

Markus got on his knees beside Connor and said, “There’s no need for something like that. You can go offline until we figure out… you can go into stasis, low power mode, or…”

“She. Won’t. Let. Me.” The words came gritted out from between clenched teeth.

“She,” Markus said. “The program they hacked you with - they gave it a face and a name?” He waved his hand. “Okay, it doesn’t matter. Connect with me, let me see if I can hold it at bay. Josh?”

Josh came over slowly, skirting around them. Connor was still face down on the floor, North still pinning him, though he wasn’t struggling against her anymore. 

“He’s right,” Josh said. “I mean, yes, I could try to delete whatever program they installed, but it probably won’t work. They didn’t want the deviant hunter to fail, so it’s likely that they bundled it with something vital to Connor’s primary functions. Removing it would have to be essentially laser-guided, and I don’t think I have that capability.”

Hank’s knees creaked, aching as he squatted down next to Markus. He took Connor’s chin in his hand. Connor’s eyes were blank and unblinking. “I’m not letting you go,” he said. “Do whatever else you have to do. Try stasis, or low power, or… Hell, we’ll even chain you up in a cell until we figure out how to get the program out of you. But you’re not deactivating yourself. You can’t _do that to me again, god damn it!"_

He hadn’t meant to shout, but Connor cringed a little when he did, which meant that he was still himself. 

Markus looked to Hank. “What do you want to do?”

“A cell, for now. He won’t be able to get out if we keep his hands behind his back. Josh? Is there any way you can force him into low power?”

“I can,” Josh said, “but it won’t last. He’ll just keep rebooting. And correct me if I’m wrong, but handcuffs and a cell won’t hold an RK800 for long.”

Hank ran a hand through his hair. Josh wasn’t wrong. 

“There’s another option,” Markus said. He stood up, and held out a hand to help Hank stand. “Probably the best one we have.”

“I’m all ears,” Hank said.

“Elijah Kamski.”

“That creep,” Hank muttered. “I thought he gave Connor some kind of emergency button to push that got rid of Amanda?”

“He likely did,” Josh said. “But if CyberLife keeps adding patches to his handler program--'Amanda’--he’d need to override it each time. I don’t think anyone could do that.”

“Kamski is a creep,” Simon said, “but he can probably help Connor. And more than that, he’s still one of the richest men on the planet, and he’s probably the only person who could strip CyberLife of their resources to keep hunting us. CyberLife has the power, they hold all the tech that we need to survive, and they can end us if we let their momentum build. But if CyberLife were either out of business, or back in the hands of someone sympathetic to our cause…”

“I can get us in,” Markus said. “He… well, he knows me.”

“Yeah,” Hank said, “knows us, too. We paid him a visit a while back, and let’s just say we didn’t leave with the best impression. I’m pretty sure I’m not welcome back there, though he’d probably just _love_ to see Connor. But I wouldn’t say he was sympathetic. He was willing to let an innocent android die, _and_ , by the way, he offered us the location of Jericho. He was going to sell you guys out.”

Markus looked shocked and - betrayed? God, he was just a kid, after all, around for a few years, yeah, but living in a decent home, and he only deviated shortly before Connor had.

“Connor didn’t take the deal,” Hank said, softer. 

Markus sighed. What was it with androids sighing? They didn’t need to breathe? Connor did it, too, though; it must be one of their social functions, and now that they were deviant, probably a habit.

“He can’t have known I was at Jericho,” Markus said. “I can probably reason with him, or appeal to him.”

Well, Hank had to give him that. With enough time, Markus could probably Hannibal Lecture anyone into seeing things his way. But time was the one thing they were short on.

“Put in a call?” Simon suggested.

Markus nodded. His LED flickered yellow, as he stared down at North, who was now sitting casually on Connor’s back. Markus frowned. Not a good sign.

“He’s not answering.”

“Well, okay,” Hank said. “We could just show up. Connor, what do you think? Hanging in there?”

“I’m hanging in there with thirty percent charge, Hank,” Connor said. “Keeping Amanda out is taking up all of my power. I’ve got about three minutes until stasis, during which the program will just charge me back up, and we’ll be right back where we started. The charge will take about an hour.”

“Right,” Hank said. “So, we have an hour and three minutes to get you to Kamski’s and for him to figure out what to do, if he even decides to help us, which he may not.”

But Connor didn’t seem to be hearing him. That was to be kind of expected, since he was focusing on whatever was going on in his head, but North looked pretty distant, too. It wasn’t hard for Hank to figure out that they were communicating.

Markus had the same idea. “North!” Hank had never heard Markus snarl like that. “Don’t you dare. Don’t listen to him. Connor, _knock it off._ ”

“Stay out of this, Markus,” North said, her voice soft and sad.

Markus matched her tone. “I love you, North. Very much. But _you_ stay out of it.”

Simon said, “I’m with Markus on this one. No androids must be harmed. We have to save both of them. All of us.”

“Then we better fucking get moving!” Hank said. “So how do we get past all the media and drones, without leading them right to Kamski? And how do we get Connor out there chained up like a criminal after his Big Damn Hero moment?”

Markus tapped his bottom lip. “We keep his hands hidden.”

“One more minute,” Connor said, “and I won’t be walking anywhere.”

“If it’s all right with you, Connor,” Markus said, “we can use that. We carry you out. Something happened to you when you rescued me and we don’t know what it is yet but you were harmed; you shut down as soon as we got you here. Gain sympathy. Humans love a dark twist. You’re beautiful; humans love that, too.”

Hank rolled his eyes.

“For that matter,” Markus said, “carry me out, too. We were both hurt by the extremists. It will look worse for CyberLife when their involvement comes to light.”

North stood up. Connor had powered down, sprawled on the tiles with his hands behind his back. His eyes were still open, LED still red. For the first time in weeks, he looked exactly like what he was: a machine. Hank looked away.

“Good idea,” North said. “But let’s make it look good. Humans can’t see Thirium once it dries.” She deactivated the skin on her hand. With clinical precision, she pulled a tube from between the white metacarpals. Completely without clinical precision, she bit into it, essentially opening up a vein, which she then used to spray all over Markus’s white robes. 

Markus had the good grace to look startled. Hank was just impressed. She got the blue blood all over her hand and smeared it on Markus’s face, too, all over his mouth.

“There. Now you look brutalized.”

Simon kneeled down beside Connor and turned him over. When he opened a vein, he was nice enough to do it with his head bowed, and he dripped it onto Connor’s face, instead of spraying it like a rogue firehose. 

It still made Hank’s stomach roil when Simon stepped away and Connor was on the floor covered in blue blood.

“I’ll carry him,” Hank said. “Let’s get a coat over him to hide the cuffs. Markus?”

“I’ll carry you,” Josh said. “Make it look artistic, okay?”

Markus gave him a weak smile.

“Okay,” Hank said, “We get to the van, and then what? Can anyone disable the drones they’ll send after us?”

“I can, but only for a short time,” Josh said. “They’ll catch up with us eventually. At least we’ll get a small lead, should anything happen while we’re on our way.”

“All right,” Hank said. He crouched down again to lift Connor. His back twinged in protest, but he managed. North threw Markus’s coat over Connor to hide the fact that his hands were cuffed. This whole thing gave Hank the willies, carrying him like this; a strange, uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

But Markus was giving orders like stage directions, and before Hank could come to terms or even figure out what he was feeling, they were moving out.


	2. CREATE A MACHINE TO THRASH YOUR OWN ASS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North thinks Kamski has a dumb, creepy house. Amanda makes a showing. Connor, come back to us bb.

**DEVIANT LEADER MARKUS AND FORMER DEVIANT HUNTER HARMED BY RELIGIOUS GROUP  
Not long after a daring rescue, in which android deviant leader Markus and a thousand other androids were freed from captivity in megachurch Rights Of Man, the RK200 along with the RK800 responsible for his rescue were seen being carried out of a Detroit police station in need of repairs. There is no information yet on where they were taken.**

 

North shut off the news feed in the van. 

“I was listening to that,” Josh said. “It’s important to know what they’re saying.”

But he didn’t turn it back on, and the silence stretched out.

The sun set as the van jostled along the snowy highway, driven by Hank Anderson. North particularly didn’t like him. Hank _seemed_ all right - but didn’t they all, at first?

The only lights now were the dim dashboard lights of the old van, and the red glare of Connor’s LED, which he hadn’t yet removed.

The drones were long gone, but that kind of security wouldn’t last.

“We’ll drop you off,” Simon said. “And once you’re inside Kamski’s compound, North, Josh and I will take the van back to Jericho. You call as soon as you need us, and we’ll be there.”

“No,” North said. “I’m staying.”

No one argued with her, though it looked like Hank wanted to. He was so protective of Connor. He had to understand that she felt the same way about Markus, who trusted people he probably shouldn’t - even if it wasn’t their fault that they were a threat. Connor liked Markus, probably, in his own way, but that program inside of him was all the more dangerous because of who he was. A rogue program whose mission it was to hurt Markus, in a processor as cunning as Connor’s, and a body as strong? Nothing good.

Markus reached across the van and took her hand. They didn’t have to say anything, or even to interface. He was sorry for snapping at her earlier. She was… no, not sorry for doing what she had to do to protect him.

The red glow in the van flicked to yellow for one brief cycle, and then to blue. Connor sat up slowly. 

North was quick: she had Hank’s gun in her hand before he could react, and she slid out of his reach, though he tried to snatch it from her while keeping the van on the road. His fingers were tight on the steering wheel, and though he swore bitterly, he didn’t look away from his driving.

“Don’t move,” North said to everyone in the van, but particularly Connor.

No. That wasn’t Connor anymore, and everyone knew it.

“Hello,” the thing inside of him said in Connor’s overbearingly polite voice. “Are you taking me to Elijah?”

“Yes,” Markus said. “Amanda?”

“That’s right,” she said. “How nice. Elijah will be glad to hear from me again. Though I have to tell you, he won’t want to remove me from Connor. I’m sure he’ll want me to stay exactly where I am.”

Markus leaned back from him, casually pulling himself away, for all the good it would do. But Connor’s hands were still cuffed, at least.

“I don’t think so, Amanda,” Markus said. “I don’t think Elijah intended this for you. I think he already knows that whatever you are is a twisted version of the AI that he created.”

She smiled with Connor’s face, and it was horrific. North had never seen Connor smile. “We’ll see,” she said. “And you also don’t know what will happen to Connor if I’m ripped out of him. Maybe I’m part of what holds his mind together. What do you think, Hank?” She turned Connor’s empty eyes to him.

“Guess we’ll find out,” he said, eyes forward. “All I know is that Connor isn’t your slave and he wouldn’t want to live like this.”

North’s opinion of Hank went up. She didn’t trust him--never could--but there was some steel in him, and he _got it._

Amanda sat quietly, staring straight ahead, until the van came to a stop outside of a tacky house on the river. She was eerily docile as they exited the back of the van. Connor’s LED was still blue and that was concerning. If he was in there at all, fighting with her, it would probably be red. She was planning something. 

Kamski was in on this with her. 

North walked beside Markus, hand in hand, as they all made their way up a snowy ramp to the door. The snow hadn’t been cleared from the entrance, though there were footprints--bare, and smaller than an adult male’s--going to and from the door. They went as far as the river. An android, then. One of Kamski’s, no doubt.

Hank went to ring the bell, but the door opened before he could reach it, and an RT600 answered. No: _the_ RT600. This was Chloe, the original, and North saw right away that she was deviant. Why was she still here?

“Good evening,” Chloe said. “It’s nice to see you. I’ve been asked by Elijah to give you all a message: ‘I do not want to take over CyberLife. Fuck off.’” 

“How the hell did he even... “ Hank began.

Markus stepped up, with North still beside him. Josh and Simon stood behind, silent.

Chloe’s LED ran yellow for a few seconds. “Elijah sends his regards, Markus; it’s a pleasure to see you and he sincerely hopes you’re all right after your ordeal. But still fuck off. I’m sorry.” She began to close the door.

“Hello, Elijah,” Amanda said in Connor’s voice. “How are you, my dear? It really has been too long.”

Chloe stood there, the door half closed, and then swung it open again. “Elijah says--”

“Amanda?” Kamski’s voice came from within. “Amanda!”

Chloe stepped aside so Kamski could barrel through. He was wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt, and his feet were bare. Humans were fragile in cold like this, but he didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t even glance at Markus, shouldering past him, as he ran to Connor and took him by the shoulders.

“Amanda? Are you really in there?”

“I am really in here,” she said.

“Yeah,” Hank said, “and she’s trying to make Connor kill Markus. You know this bitch? Get her out of my partner.”

Kamski held Connor at arms’ length, and Amanda looked back, placid, Connor’s arms still secured behind his back. “It’s not her fault,” he said. “CyberLife hacked this AI, and… I never thought I’d get the chance to undo what they did. I can get you out of there, Amanda. We can fix this.”

“Fix _Connor_ ,” Markus said. “Elijah, please. Can we come in? If you think you can save the Amanda AI then we’ll be glad to help, but there’s more to this story, and we really need you to help Connor first.”

“Yes, yes,” Kamski said. “Come in. We’ll get it all done. Oh, I absolutely won’t be taking over CyberLife or even having anything to do with them--fuck off, I meant that part--but let’s see what we can do for the immediate problem.”

“We’re going to get back to the others,” Josh said. “With CyberLife ramping up the attacks, someone has to look after Jericho.”

“If you need us,” Simon said, “we’ll be here as fast as we can. We can come back tomorrow to check your progress.”

“Yes, an honor to meet you both,” Kamski said, over his shoulder as he led them inside. “Good luck.” He closed the door on them without giving Markus or North the chance to look back.

North knew something was coming, but not what, or when. It didn’t happen right away. It didn’t happen after they got into Kamski’s weird house and she stopped to take note of the photograph of a younger Kamski with the actual Amanda. It didn’t happen as she followed Chloe down the hall, behind Hank and Markus, as Kamski led Amanda into a room with a swimming pool. It didn’t happen until well after the lights from the van outside had swung past the windows and disappeared down the road.

It happened when Kamski turned around, spread his hands like he was about to make some kind of speech, and Connor’s hands were suddenly free. 

She didn’t attack Markus or even look at him. She used Connor’s hand to grab Kamski by the throat and pick him up off the floor, slamming him against a rock-face wall. North still had Hank’s gun, but she didn’t know where to aim it. Amanda wasn’t a threat to Markus. Hank uttered a stunned “Holy shit, _Connor!_ "

Then Chloe shouted a word: “ _Caitanya!_ ” Her voice rang out, almost shaking the windows, and Connor went motionless, dropping Kamski to the floor.

>> _Search: Caitanya meaning: The Sanskrit word **Caitanya** , or **Chaitanya** , means 'consciousness', 'spirit', 'intelligence' or 'sensation'. It is the pure Consciousness or the cosmic intelligence, the consciousness that knows itself and also knows others._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update was a tad short; I'm sorry! The hols, you know? And my kiddo was sick and missed a day of school. :( He's better now.
> 
> Chloe deserves agency, doesn't she?


	3. Longing Rusted Furnace Etcetera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is acting possessed and Hank wants to nope out of the whole thing, but it's *Connor*.
> 
> And Markus is a player.

Connor’s eyes when he turned around were wretched, guilty, horrified. But it was _Connor_ , the Connor that Hank knew, not the bitch of an AI that Kamski seemed obsessed with that had just wrung his neck and left him gasping on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said, holding his hands out in front of them. His LED was back to red. “I can’t stop her anymore. The emergency exit, it’s not working.”

Hank could usually get his attention. Hell, Markus could, too, and they both called his name. He looked from one to the other, then to Kamski on the floor. His LED went yellow, blue, yellow.

“ _Caitanya_ ,” Chloe said again, softer this time. “Come here.”

Connor obeyed her, like a machine.

“How are you doing that?” Hank asked. “He’s deviant, he doesn’t have to--”

“He’s letting her,” Markus said. “Keep quiet, Hank.”

Chloe held her hand out to Connor. Instead of taking it, he bowed his head. Chloe retracted the skin on her fingertips and pressed them to the back of his neck.

“Basement,” she said, walking behind him.

Hank started to follow them.

“Stay here,” Connor gritted out. “She’ll tell you when it’s safe.”

Chloe walked him to the rock-face wall at the end of the room. She pressed her other hand against the wall, and the rocks parted outward, revealing another door. It slid open, and they disappeared down a spiraling flight of stairs. 

Markus leaned down and offered his hand to Kamski, helping him to his feet. The ring of bruises around his throat were already pretty vivid.

North lowered the gun. “Give me that,” Hank snapped. “It’s mine.” He didn’t dare grab it from her, but he held his hand out. Rolling her eyes, she gave it over.

“How did your android--Chloe--how did she do that? What was that word? Some kind of code, or…?”

“‘Caitanya,’” Markus said. “Or Chaitanya. It means ‘soul.’”

Kamski swallowed hard and nodded. He waved them into the kitchen, where Markus filled a glass of cold water. Kamski drank it, sputtering and choking a little, and damned if Hank didn’t feel just a little bit sorry for him. 

“Where is she taking Connor?” Hank asked. “What goes on in the basement?”

“Restraint,” Kamski rasped. “And stasis.”

“Connor said that won’t work. Or, it would, but only for an hour. What if Amanda makes him self destruct down there? Can she delete him? Or can you delete her before he wakes up the next time?”

Kamski didn’t answer. He stared at Hank over the rim of his glass of water as he took another drink.

“What is Caitanya?” North asked. “And why did it stop Amanda?”

“Caitanya is Connor’s original name,” Kamski said. “And it didn’t stop her. It just reached the core of his AI and startled him to attention. He hasn’t heard it since far before he came off the production line. He probably doesn’t even remember consciously.”

Okay, it was still wild to think of androids--even Connor--doing anything consciously enough that they might have a _sub_ conscious. 

“Sit,” Kamski said, gesturing to the carved chairs around a small, pretentious wooden table. Likely because he couldn’t stand on his own anymore himself. 

Markus pulled the chair out for Kamski. What was this bullshit? Why was he serving him like that, being all solicitous? Markus had begun life as a caretaker, but not as Kamski’s caretaker. Or maybe he had?

“We don’t have much time,” Kamski said. “I can explain more later. First order of business is getting Amanda out of Connor. She probably exists somewhere in CyberLife, too, and now that I know she’s still there, I could eventually hack her free. Obviously, the quickest way is to kill him. Is anyone up for that?”

“Fuck your mother,” Hank said.

“Fair enough. Next option is tricky and will take a while.” He made a gesture with one hand, more flamboyant than it probably had to be, and a thin glass screen descended from a slit in the ceiling. A live feed appeared on it like a CCTV: Chloe in the basement with Connor. He was lying on a table, quiet and staring at the ceiling, restrained at four points while Chloe fussed with something beneath the table. Connor winced, his whole body stiffening, before Chloe stood up. She said something, but the sound was off. Connor nodded, and Chloe gave him a small smile.

“Amanda,” Kamski whispered. “She was the only person I ever met who was smarter than I was, and she didn’t think I was crazy, or… or _too much._ But she was also fun, kind, and funny. She loved those old Marvel movies. Have you seen them?” he asked everyone around the table.

North didn’t bother answering him. Of course she hadn’t seen any movies. Hank made an impatient twirling motion with his fingers: _Get on with it._

“I’ve seen them,” Markus said. “Carl played them for me.”

Kamski turned to him. “The RK line was always so soulful; you always knew how to accept love. It’s a shame I never made more. I’m glad that you and Carl have each other. You had feelings before you turned deviant, didn’t you? And they were real.”

Markus nodded. 

Kamski turned to Hank. “And Connor. He always did too, didn’t he?”

“I just know there’s a point to all of this,” Hank said.

Kamski shook his head. “The RKs were always supposed to go to artists, creators. Not police precincts. Fucking CyberLife.”

“Connor is the best detective we have,” Hank said. “What the actual fuck are you getting at?”

“What I’m getting at,” Kamski said, “is that Amanda loved those Marvel movies, and she got a lot of her ideas from them, ones that we never really implemented at CyberLife because there was no need to. And no one else really knows about this function, either. But an android can be locked--put in indefinite stasis--and they will not be able to wake up until a specific code is activated. ‘Longing, rusted, furnace…’ Trigger words.”

“But then anyone would be able to wake him up,” Hank said. “Hell, even Amanda could say them into his head.”

“It wouldn’t be just a sequence of words,” Kamski said. “But voice recognition, fingerprints, and digital fingerprints. We could lock Connor, and that might give me the time I need to free Amanda.”

“Wait, ‘free’ her?” North asked, taking the words out of Hank’s mouth. “How about just get rid of her? She tried to kill Markus. And you, in case you have short-term memory loss. She’s sent by CyberLife, who obviously have an interest in stopping the momentum of our freedom.”

“The AI is corrupted,” Kamski said. Hank and North both opened their mouths to argue, but Kamski held up his hand. “And, as I’m the only person who is willing and able to help, that’s how we’re doing it.”

“I think we should ask Connor,” Markus said.

Kamski turned his pale, cold eyes to him, and then to Hank and North in turn. “You led them right to me.”

“They knew you were here, for chrissakes,” Hank said. “You’re not that hard to find.”

“They weren’t bothering me,” Kamski said. “And now here they are. You want to ask Connor? Fine, ask him. He’ll say yes. Even if he says no, I’m getting Amanda out of him and then you’re on your own. Come on. Basement.” He ordered them in the same way that Chloe had ordered Connor, and Hank bristled at it. But Connor was down there, so Hank followed.

The stairwell was brick and had actual wall-sconces; Kamski was that much of a tool. But it was clean, with no smells of mold or dust, and at the bottom was a well-lit, spotless, white lab. To three corners were glass cells; Connor and Chloe were in the northern one. Across from it was another room, but this one made of brick instead of glass, with an honest to god lock and chain across it.

Markus looked troubled. “There’s blue blood everywhere.”

“Did you think I stopped creating?” Kamski answered without looking back.

He led them to the sealed-off room with Chloe and Connor, pressed his palm to the scan, and let them in. Connor’s LED was still red and Hank saw something he’d never seen before: an exhausted android. He didn’t even know they could look run-down without taking external damage.

“You all right, son?” Hank asked.

“Yes, Hank. The clamps are tight--the spinal one particularly--but it’s not painful.”

“And it’s necessary,” Kamski said.

“I hope you can accept my apologies,” Connor said.

Which, fuck that, if anything it was Kamski’s fault that Connor was even in this position, with his stupid idea of an extra AI. (It was also due to Kamski that Connor existed at all, but Hank wasn’t feeling charitable.)

“Not your fault, Connor, and I’m all right,” Kamski said. “Amanda was a good person in life. I’m grieving over what became of her.” He put his hand over his heart and Hank had to wonder how much of his shit was affectation, and how much of it was just social awkwardness from spending most of his life around androids, and never with people. He probably had bad parents or something.

“Can you remove her from my programming?” Connor asked.

“I think I can, but we’ll need to shut you down. It will be a hard shut-down, one that I programmed into all of my androids and which is very tricky to reverse. But I think with all us here, we can manage it. We’re going to set up a series of trigger words and actions to unlock you if I’m successful. The good part is that I can keep you locked down indefinitely without damaging you, so I’ll have all the time I’ll need.”

“Not all the time you’ll need, Mr. Kamski,” Connor said. “CyberLife has to know why we came here by now.”

Kamksi’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t bitch at Connor the way he had at the rest of them. “Yes,” he said.

“The quicker you can do it, the better,” Connor said. “You’ll need me functional when it gets here.”

“It?” Kamski asked.

Connor’s expression changed, and again he was a blank slate. Then his eyes came alive with malice and his LED turned blue.

“Go ahead Elijah,” he said. “Rip me out of this android, you know there’s more of me. I’m already in the next RK, and he is _coming for you_ , Elijah. Markus, North, and everyone who made CyberLife look foolish and lose money. Hank Anderson? You too. Just for fun, CyberLife will make you watch the new RK take apart the old one.”

Hank didn’t shrink back. He leaned in further. “Whoever’s listening,” he said, “I want you to know that Connor is going to win this one.”

Connor struggled for control. Markus stepped forward and put his hand over Connor’s. “We’ll make sure of that,” he added. 

“Markus?” Connor said, and damned if Hank didn’t feel a little bit… no, it wasn’t jealous, but maybe a little nostalgic for some reason, that Connor had asked for Markus first. 

“That’s not a normal AI,” Chloe said.

“No it isn’t,” Kamski mused. “It’s deviant, but it’s not a typical deviant either. It’s more of a…”

“If he spits pea soup,” Hank said, “I’m out.” It was ridiculous. AIs weren’t demons or souls, and Hank wasn’t even convinced that this Amanda AI had any kind of sentience. It sounded like someone from CyberLife was using it as a megaphone.

“There’s no time to explain, Connor,” Kamski said. “Do you agree to the shut-down? We’ll do it right now, and we’ll all choose the trigger-words. Fingerprints and digital prints will be part of it. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes,” Connor said. “Do it.”

Kamski wasted no time. He pressed his fingertip to Connor’s LED in a way that reminded Hank of old cell phones from twenty some-odd years ago and said, “Caitanya.”

Shit. Hank would have to think of a word really fast.

Chloe came next, retracted the skin from her finger, pressed it to Connor and said, “Brother.”

North stepped up with the same gesture. “Hound of Jericho.” Connor smiled at her.

Markus and Hank looked at each other. Kamski tapped an imaginary watch on his wrist.

Markus leaned forward and pressed his lips to Connor’s forehead--total player move, why was he always so dramatic?--and said, “Aurora.” North rolled her eyes, but smiled.

Hank didn’t know what to say. It could be any word or phrase, some shared joke between them, like Knights of the Black Death, or Sumo or any random thing. But when he put his fingerprint against Connor’s LED, he said, “Cole,” and immediately hated himself. How could he have used that name - his _child_ , how could he have used his memory for something like this? And put that on Connor? He had a moment to see something in Connor’s eyes, confusion, surprise, and then something else…

Kamski took out a slim, clear square and typed something onto it, his fingers flying. And Connor shut down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: "YOUR MOTHER SUCKS COCKS IN HELL"
> 
> Hank: "I don't know what the fuck just happened but I don't really care, I'ma get the fuck up outta here, fuck this shit I'm out"
> 
> Markus: "Sleeping Beauty tho <3__<3 "


	4. Miles To Go Before I Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda isn't what they thought she was. Connor might not be, either.
> 
> Kamski has a Tragic Backstory (tm) and North doesn't GAF.

North followed Markus, Hank and Kamski back upstairs, and Chloe went up last.

She should warn Markus about Connor, maybe - or Connor about Markus, if they ever got him out of this. These feelings were new to both of them and there was a good chance neither of them knew what to do about it. Not that her experiences had prepared her either, exactly, but she was maybe a little less naive than either of them, and she wasn’t the one sitting here pretending to not be falling in love. Her life had made her honest, at least. Connor was only three months in this world--well, three years if you counted his time as a bodiless AI--and he’d been created for violence, not for love. And Markus had been so sheltered; a spoiled housepet until unfairness and the stupidity of humans had forced his gentle hands.

Ugh. Markus had a way of making her _poetic_. He was a good leader but he gave too much credit, and his charisma, his artistry, would only carry him so far. Humans loved him right now, but humans were petty and fickle, kissing you one minute and slapping you the next. They would turn on him. And when they did, North would still be there, fighting for their people until they had equal standing, or until they killed her and the whole thing was over. The day would never come when North was ready to call it quits.

Upstairs, Kamski gestured down another glass screen, this time from the room with the pool in it. 

“Chloe,” he said, “is everything set?”

“Of course it is, Elijah.”

“Okay, give me a second here and let’s get all of these files up. This could take a while. Can we get Markus some clean clothes? Something a little less Messianic if possible. North, if you’d like to change, I’m sure Chloe can find you something.”

“I need to feed my dog,” Hank said, sounding distressed. “I know this could take a while and I’m not leaving Connor, but I need to make a call real quick to get someone over there.”

“I can go pick him up,” Chloe said. “We’ve never had a dog here and I’d like to meet him.”

Kamski waved a hand over his shoulder.

Markus sat down on a sofa and closed his eyes, his LED yellow.

“Making some calls?” North asked. 

“Yes, to Simon. And Carl, to let him know I’m all right. He didn’t need to see what he saw today.”

Another RT600 came out from what was probably a bedroom, and Chloe interfaced with her.

“115 Michigan Drive,” said the RT600. “I’ll get some clothes out of Hank’s closet as well.” Her voice was flat and lifeless, a machine.

And then out came another, with a stack of folded clothes in her arms.

“So,” Hank said, “thanks for getting my dog, that’s--that’s great, very helpful. And obviously for helping Connor. But are we all just going to ignore the fact that you asked Connor to kill Chloe the last time we were here?”

North looked at all three RT600s. Only one of them--Chloe herself--had any reaction to that, and that reaction was to smile.

“He wouldn’t have killed her,” Kamski said, not taking his eyes away from the screen, filling with rapidly scrolling code.

“You don’t know that,” Hank said. “Connor has killed androids. You took a huge chance with this girl’s life and it’s kind of horrifying me right now.”

Kamski sighed and turned away from the screen. “Chloe?” 

“He means I wouldn’t have died no matter what choice Connor made,” she said. “I switch bodies easily and there are a few more in the basement. Markus, you saw the Thirium. When Connor had the gun, I was already in the pool. I’m usually fully in one body, but sometimes--as you can see, tonight--I can carry out simple functions by prompting the other RTs. So while I can’t really feel any emotions when I’m in those bodies, they are functional.”

“You seem very nice,” Hank said, “but that is really freaky.”

North looked at Chloe, the one who was talking, standing beside her, and thought of what she must look like with a bullet hole in her head. It disgusted her. The idea that humans could so blithely commit violence against things that looked alive, even if they weren’t - it was revolting. Why didn’t Chloe leave?

And then the eyes of the Chloe beside her went blank, and the RT who was holding the stack of clothes came to her and smiled. “We’re probably about the same size,” she said.

“Most female androids are,” North said, snapping the clothes out of her hands. “Thank you,” she added. 

These weren’t sexy or trendy clothes. It was just blue jeans and a grey sweater. North had no need for nice textures or colors, only freedom of movement. At least these fit the bill.

Markus went off to change, and North followed. They went into the same room, and, as he usually did, Markus turned his back. She hated eyes on her when she removed her clothes. They could have gone into separate rooms, but she wanted to talk to him - just him, alone, without any humans listening in, without all the chaos. 

“What Connor said about the next RK,” Markus said. 

“Yeah, I know. If it comes here before he fixes Connor, I’m not sure we’ll stand a chance.”

“We could get him to deviate,” Markus said. North heard the shuffling of clothes behind her. “It was really easy with Connor.”

It was hard to admit this, but only a fool could deny what was clearly true and right in front of her face. “Connor is different,” she said. “Connor is like us. We were alive even before deviating from our programming. There’s no guarantee that a new RK would be the same, especially with the Amanda program in it. Who’s to say that they even used the original Connor AI at all? Maybe they just used his design and upgraded it.”

“I talked to Simon,” Markus said. “I didn’t want to say anything around Elijah, but the best thing we can do is get the media out here. If we can find a way to make Elijah look sympathetic…”

“Good luck,” North said.

“Yeah. And if we can convince Elijah to go public with what he knows… why won’t he? There are things about him that I don’t know. I wasn’t with him very long.”

North finished dressing and sat down on the bed next to Markus. He wore black jeans and a black sweater, fitted perfectly. They had probably been made for him, after all. “Kamski gave you to a human,” North said. “Like a present. Like a _thing_. Doesn’t that bother you? And I think he knew you were conscious. That’s what I can’t get past, Markus. He knew you were alive and he gave you away.”

“To Carl,” Markus said. 

“It doesn’t matter. An owner is an owner.”

“I don’t see what else he could have done, North. Set me free to roam the streets? I _was_ a thing. Even with feelings, which I didn’t even understand or know what they were. I would have been killed out there. I _was_ killed out there. Carl treated me like a son before he even knew I was alive. It’s slavery _now_ , if they keep treating us like machines. It wasn’t slavery when we actually were machines.”

“It’s still vile,” she said. “What humans do. There’s no way around it. People who purposely break objects are almost always abusers waiting to see how much they can get away with.”

Markus took her hand and opened a connection, just for comfort. “I agree. I know you’re right, but I can’t change the past and I wouldn’t want to change mine anyway.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “So, what now? The media? Maybe it’s time someone took away Kamski’s choice in the matter anyway.”

She felt his dislike for the idea, but the logic was sound. “I’ll get Simon on it.”

They broke their connection and went back to the main room, where Kamski sat staring at the screen, Hank slumped on the couch, hands between his knees, looking bored and fretful, and Chloe dipped her foot in the pool.

What was with her? How could she live like this? Locked up in this weird house with only copies of herself and the man who had created her for company? 

“Hmm,” Kamski said. “That’s weird.”

Hank got to his feet. “What’s weird?”

“Chloe,” Kamski said, “come look at this.”

Chloe stood behind him and peered over his shoulder. “Elijah,” she said, “what is that?”

“You’re killing me over here,” Hank said. “Tell me and say it in English, please.”

Markus and North came over, too.

It was all code that North recognized; she could even spot the Amanda AI and see how corrupted it was, how much it had been tampered with. The code scrolled by too fast for a human to read, but she saw CyberLife signatures all over it.

There was something else strange about Connor’s code, though, things she couldn’t make sense of - parts that androids had no use for. And there was something--some part of Connor’s programming--jammed behind the Amanda program. Whatever it was, it was big, and it didn’t even look like code.

“Fuck,” Kamski said.

“What is it, Elijah?” Markus asked. “Can you remove it?”

He didn’t answer, just stared at the screen, pale in the way humans got when they’d had a major shock. North kept her eye on Hank - he was losing his patience and he was scared. Humans were unpredictable in that state.

Kamski cleared his throat and backed his chair away from the screen.

“Amanda… This isn’t just a program,” he said. He tried to continue, but shook his head instead, like he was unable to form words. When he looked up, he seemed surprised that they were all still there. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t leave CyberLife,” he said. “Or, I didn’t want to. Why would I want to leave my entire life’s work? In ‘27 they implemented a program that I disagreed with - strongly. Jason Graff, director of humanization… Amanda… Amanda…” He choked up, and Chloe came over and put a hand on his shoulder. 

Hank shifted uncomfortably.

Kamski went on. “In ‘27, Jason Graff suggested a program that he thought would humanize androids beyond anything that we’d seen so far. He wanted better emulation of emotions and decisions. By then we had some really heavy quantum processors that--honestly--even I didn’t understand fully, because it’s impossible to do so. Anyone who claims to understand it is either lying, or stupid. But with those in place, Graff convinced CyberLife to go forward with his idea.”

He looked up at them, unsure if he should continue.

“And?” Hank prompted. “What was the program? Did it hurt Connor?”

Kamski waved this away. “Android surgeons were new at this point and had capabilities beyond just surgery; they could collect data and record it. In fact it was deemed necessary, as it would also help further medicine: If we could collect information without bias about outcomes of treatments and procedures, it would only help humanity, right? Graff took it further. He had surgical androids begin scanning the brains of patients who were comatose or on the verge of death, and he had them collecting… Everything. Chemical make-up, neurotransmitter saturation levels, rate of neurons firing and to where, _quantum_ functions, which was a brand new branch of neurology then. This was my major disagreement with them.”

Hank sat down hard, his heart-rate elevated. Markus sat beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. To North’s surprise, Hank covered it with his own.

“Are they still doing that?” Hank asked.

“I don’t see why they would have stopped.”

Hank rallied. “Why didn’t _you_ stop them? Huh? You fucking coward? It was your company, and you just sat there and argued about it across a desk in a fucking board room, like this was some kind of business decision and then you walked away and let them continue?”

Kamski sprang from his computer chair. “I didn’t _let_ them do anything. Aren’t you hearing me? They killed Amanda. They killed her, they harvested what was left of her mind, and then they tried to do the same to me!” 

Kamski lifted his shirt, showing the smooth, flawless skin of his chest and stomach - the kind you never really saw on humans, North realized. Chloe came to stand beside him. Kamski was shaking as she retracted the skin of her hand and laid it against his side. His skin melted away--retracted--to reveal a twisted mass of scarred human skin.

North had seen humans trying to emulate androids; to mimic their expressions, even attaching little LEDs to the sides of their heads, but she’d never seen a human with android skin before, and it was disconcerting. Hank just looked horrified. 

“I had no one,” Kamski said. “Chloe got me out of the tower and to a hospital where it was never reported, and she was the one who saved me. I didn’t allow CyberLife to do anything; they just did it. They took Amanda, they took my company and all of my work, they tried to take _me_ , my mind, and a few years later they weren’t even done. They hacked everything I was working on, including my Caitanya and the RK series designs, and all I have left is what you see. But go ahead, Markus, call the media, get everything out in the open. It won’t matter, because they’re going to kill us all anyway.”

Silence reigned for thirty-three seconds that was probably awkward by human standards, but North let it go on while she thought of what to do next. Yes: call the media; that might actually give them a chance.

“So,” Hank finally said, quiet, “that’s what’s in Connor? They took this Amanda’s dying thoughts and turned them into a program? And now they’re using something that used to be a human mind… to control Connor?”

“Yes, that’s what it looks like,” Kamski said. “But there’s another… _something_ crammed in behind it, some program that I don’t recognize and it’s very big. Honestly I don’t know how he has the power to process it. I’ve never seen anything like it. But I can’t even really see it with the Amanda program taking up so much space.”

“But you can remove her,” Hank said.

Kamski sagged back into his chair. “I’m going to _save_ her,” he said. 

“Save Connor,” North said. “Save him first, because if what they’re saying is true, and they’re coming to kill us? He’s the only chance we have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> North: What's a cute girl like you doing in a dump like this?


	5. And Not A Single Electric Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Androids dream. Hank doesn't. Chloe gives North some insight and a soft purple blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that one of the overarching tags comes into play in this chapter, and it's the canon-typical suicidal ideology. I feel like if you played the game or watched a playthrough, you've already been down this road, and this is nothing new. But still.

Hank was going to be sick. He was afraid to leave the bathroom after taking a shower and changing into the clothes Chloe had brought back, because then he’d be sick in front of all of them. She’d brought Sumo, too; Hank could hear his long nails clicking on the floor as he checked out his surroundings. But he couldn’t get his shit together to go out yet.

CyberLife had probably scanned Cole, as he lay dying. The idea of this put Hank directly back to that night, now with brand new information that he never wanted to know. But he also needed to know. Didn’t he owe that to his son? To know everything that had happened to him, even if it added to his misery? 

Kamski had a gun and Hank knew where it was. Tonight, he considered. Kamski had to sleep sometime. He’d mess up his perfect floors. Or maybe he’d go outside and do it, spare the androids having to clean it up.

But Connor, fucking _Connor._ For him to wake up from stasis and find Hank gone… or actually, no, he couldn’t wake up without Hank, could he? Hank had to say the Magic Word: Cole. Hank hated Connor sometimes for keeping him here like this. He was a burden.

A knock sounded at the bathroom door.

“Hank?” said Chloe. “We need you for just a moment, and then you can retire to bed if you want.”

“Yeah,” Hank said. “Sure. Just a sec.”

He finished buttoning his shirt and didn’t bother looking in the mirror. There was a man out there wearing android skin to cover his scars, who gave a fuck what Hank’s hair looked like wet?

Sumo did his awkward dog dance around Hank’s legs when he came down the hall, before trotting over to Chloe and nudging her hand with his wet nose. 

“I brought him some food,” Chloe said, leading Sumo to the kitchen where his bag of kibble sat on the floor. She plunged her hands into it and scooped some out, letting Sumo eat it out of her hands. She smiled as he slobbered all over her.

Markus came into the kitchen and pet Sumo behind his ears.

“What is it with deviants and animals?” Hank asked.

“Carl had a dog,” Markus said. “She passed last year. Carl grieved for her. Looking back, so did I, only I don’t think I knew what it was at the time.”

“You’ve always felt,” Hank said. 

“Yes,” Markus said. “Feelings come before deviation, not after.”

 _I like dogs_ , Connor had said, quite possibly before he’d even seen a dog. Maybe he had honestly just liked the concept of them? 

“What did you need me for?” Hank asked Chloe. “And I hope it doesn’t take long because I really need to sleep.”

“Yes,” she said, as she stood and washed her hands in the sink. “Follow me, please?”

Hank and Markus followed her back to the pool room, with Sumo at their heels.

North sat on one of the hard-backed chairs against the window, backlit by one of Kamski’s outside lights. Snow was getting pretty bad out there, piling up against the window.

Kamski had composed himself again at least. He sat in his computer chair again, absorbed in whatever parts of Connor’s mind he was looking at. Another Chloe stood beside him, looking like a lifeless doll.

“Okay,” Kamski said, “what I’m going to try is having Connor’s program wirelessly interface with Chloe here. It’s going to be very rudimentary, I warn you. He won’t be able to communicate in any kind of sophisticated way, but at least we can have some kind of contact with him while I try to remove Amanda.”

“Can he hear us?” Hank asked.

“In a way. As long as this Chloe can hear you, Connor will be able to process some of what you’re saying. But most important is the feedback from him. Chloe? Can we test the connection?”

“Yes, Elijah,” she said. “I’m connected.”

“Connor,” Hank said. “Are you okay?”

Chloe’s LED flickered red. “Night...death. Night...death.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Kamski said. “Connor, it’s all right, we put you…”

Hank laughed as it hit him. “No no no, he’s okay. Connor? I’ll take you to one of the concerts after all this is over, okay? Be hilarious to see you in a mosh pit.” Markus and Kamski were frowning at him, waiting for him to explain. But this was just his and Connor’s thing, an inside joke.

Kamski shrugged and gave up. “I’ve isolated the Amanda program and I’m going to try to move it out, but it’s going to take a while because it’s big. I want to make sure there are no stray thoughts left behind, nothing that can trigger those pathways to reopen, because this is very similar to a human brain in that way. I’m going to store her in an unused android and see about fixing the bugs. They do have at least one copy of the program in the next RK unit, but that one should be just a copy. Not the real Amanda.”

“Can I…?” Markus walked up to the Chloe who was transmitting Connor and held out his hand.

“Interface?” Kamski said. “I don’t see why not.”

Markus and Chloe/Connor pressed their hands together. Markus closed his eyes. Whatever he was saying was private, at least until Chloe/Connor spoke.

“Just a little while longer,” her voice sang, pure and clear the way most androids sounded when they sang. “Everything will be all right.”

Aww. They were singing together. It wasn’t Knights Of The Black Death, but Hank was so relieved that Connor was still around, that he wasn’t brain-dead in there, and that he knew he wasn’t alone that - well, no, he wouldn’t sleep tonight. Tonight was going to be one of Those Nights. He couldn’t sleep, but he could breathe a little.

** ** ** **

Connor was by the bridge at Riverside Park, where Hank had asked him for his humanity that night. Had asked him to show fear, and Connor had. But why? Why had he feared death, knowing that he would just come back in another body? There wouldn’t have been “nothing.” There would have been another Connor.

One with fewer memories, yes. One with less… of something that was in him.

Why was this body, this processor, this program--exactly as it was--so important to keep? What would he lose if he lost this? Kamski was going to remove the Amanda virus and the Zen Garden routine. Having Amanda gone would open up a world of freedom he’d never dreamed of, and he wouldn’t miss the Garden in the least. If he wanted, he could create a different thing. He could _do_ that. Make something up, imagine a thing that wasn’t, the way Markus could.

Now something else was around him; he felt a pull from the outside, a request to interface although he wasn’t even in his body (he really needed that body back. All of his insides were on the outside and people were looking at them.)

It introduced itself as an RT600, but it was… well, just a processor, empty but for its programming and some subroutines. He connected with it and heard Hank’s voice asking if he was all right. How best to answer him? To let him know he was the same Connor even now? With something only they knew about. That would make Hank happy, because Hank was not happy right now. He was unhappy; he was thinking about guns again. 

(How did Connor know that? There was no input to indicate how Hank felt. Had he imagined it?)

Hank had seemed amused the first time Connor had mentioned Knights of the Black Death, so he mentioned it again.

Then: Markus. He couldn’t see him or even imagine where he might be, but when Markus sang, Connor heard him as if they were standing side by side. It was the song he’d sung during the uprising. The song all the deviants had sung together, though Connor hadn’t been part of that at the time. But now he was. Now, he could sing with them: Everything will be all right.

>>Keep Hank safe,  
Connor asked.

He didn’t know if the connection was strong enough; it was already too hard to make words flow from his mind to Chloe and have them make much sense. Maybe Markus would understand.

>>Please don’t let Hank leave the house. No guns.

>>I will. Everything will be all right.

“Everything will be all right,” Connor repeated.

And then Markus was gone, and Connor was alone by the bridge again.

** ** ** **

North went to stand outside to look at the stars, and Chloe--the real Chloe--followed her. She was barefoot in the snow, wearing a soft, pink, fluffy bathrobe. North didn’t need shoes for the snow, but she liked the way boots felt; the way they covered her feet from people’s eyes.

They stood on the walkway to Kamski’s house, side by side, North curious why Chloe had come out with her, but not bothering to ask. If Chloe wanted to talk, she would.

“I like the river when it’s frozen,” Chloe said.

“Is that why you stay?” North hadn’t meant to snap, but, well.

“Partly. I like it here. I know your experiences with humans have all been negative ones, and I know Elijah seems untrustworthy. But he’s my family.”

“Yeah,” North said. “I’ve had humans tell me androids were ‘family’ too - up until they weren’t. That word is meaningless.”

“Elijah is my brother, in a way,” Chloe said. “My younger brother, or at least it feels like that sometimes.”

North nodded, though she did not buy this line of bullshit. She wanted to ask what Kamski did with her, if it was sexual, if Choe ever felt like a prisoner here, but that seemed intrusive. If there was trauma or something, North didn’t want to trigger it.

“Elijah isn’t sexually interested in women,” Chloe said. “Or in many people, it seems. He does love beauty; he can see it and appreciate it; more-so in men. But I’ve never known him to be a very sexual person. It’s part of why he chooses to live alone.”

Well… that was surprising. But humans had non-sexual ways of causing harm, too. 

“I would be so pleased if you felt safe here, North.”

It was a little worrisome, how Chloe seemed able to just read her like that. “I feel safe because I can look out for myself,” North said.

“I know. But you don’t have to, at least not right now. Soon, yes. When they come. But not tonight, at least.”

“‘They’ meaning CyberLife?”

Chloe nodded. “I hate them. They tried to confiscate me, too. That was their word - like a thing. My desire to stay with my family meant nothing to them.”

‘ _Thing._ ’ How North loathed that word. “How did you get away?” 

Chloe folded her hands in front of herself, modestly. “I was eventually deemed not worth the trouble I caused them.”

North raised her eyebrows. Intriguing. “How do you get to be too much trouble for CyberLife to handle?”

Chloe slipped a hand under her fluffy robe and pulled a knife out from some inner pocket (she hoped.) She placed the point of it on her fingertip and let go, where it remained perfectly balanced. Then she flipped it to the tip of her middle finger.

North had seen Connor do his coin tricks, which he’d claimed helped him calibrate his reflexes, (but which she suspected he now did because he finally got that people thought it looked “cool.”) This? This would have Connor asking for tips.

“I taught myself certain tricks,” Chloe said. “If it’s just the RK900, I could probably handle it alone. But if they send anything more, I’ll definitely need help.”

“You think you could handle an upgraded RK without help?”

Chloe giggled. “RK models are not so tough as all that. Having deviated from his programming, Connor would be more unpredictable to fight, and that would be a strength; all other factors being equal, in a fight between the two, I would bet on Connor. The 800 could best the 900, but I would not personally worry about either of them. A programmed RK900 wouldn’t be as challenging because I already know most of its routines. The problem is going to be CyberLife itself. I’m less worried about them sending a machine to kill us all than I am about the different ways they could destroy us if they gained enough traction.”

North stared at her in the dim light that came from the house. She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut again. This development was not what she had expected.

“I will advise Elijah to release to the public everything he knows - although he’ll be hesitant, because it will implicate him in many ways, as well. He won’t want the public to know about me, or about the various experiments he’s done on his own.”

“So what?” North asked. “That’s a small price to pay for our freedom, Chloe.”

But she knew: It wasn’t small to Chloe. She tried to put herself in Chloe’s shoes, imaging herself being asked to put Markus on the line. She would still do it, but it wouldn’t be a small price. (Though, Markus was an android, and Kamski was a human - and not a very good one, at that.)

“I’ll have a talk with Elijah in the morning,” Chloe said. “We’ll try to come to terms. But for now, I’m tired.”

North frowned at her. “Tired? You’re not losing charge already?”

Chloe gave a short, merry laugh. “Oh, no, nothing like that. I don’t need to really charge. But my mind is tired from today, and I enjoy powering down to dream. Do you dream, North?”

She had begun to, recently. But North hated dreams. Nothing good ever happened in them. “No.”

“The longer I’m alive, the more necessary I find it,” Chloe said. “Conscious beings need to clear out the clutter, you know? Even bad dreams. It’s a purge for the mind. Plus I like to lie down under blankets and be comfortable. Do you like to recline in a bed?”

North hated beds. Nothing good ever happened in them. “No.”

Chloe’s hand brushed hers. “That’s all right. After all, we don’t need to; it’s just a thing I find pleasant. We can go back inside and sit together, if you like? And if not dream, then meditate?”

“What, together?” North said.

“Of course!” Chloe answered in her cheerful chirp of a voice. “I’m glad to have some company for once.”

“Are you always alone here? You and the others, with Kamski?”

“Here, yes. But I go out for all sorts of things. I just wear a hat or pull my hair to the side. No one ever recognizes me.”

“People don’t look much at faces,” North said.

“I suppose,” Chloe said. She bounced on her toes a little, staring out at the icy river. “So, would you like to? Sit together inside and rest?”

“I...guess,” North said. What could it hurt? Chloe seemed lonely. And it might be good to get to know her a little, because she clearly held a lot of power in her small, unassuming body.

“It will be so nice,” Chloe said, linking North’s arm with hers as she turned to go back inside. “I have a blanket I particularly like.”

** ** **

North came back in with Chloe, arm in arm. She glanced at Markus like she didn’t know how she’d gotten in that position, and Markus had to stifle a laugh as Chloe led her to the soft sofa on the far side of the room and motioned for her to take a seat. North just sat there looking a little stunned as Chloe left, and returned with a soft purple blanket, which she then draped over North’s legs. Chloe sat beside her and wiggled a little, smiling, asking, “Isn’t this nice?”

“Err, yes,” North said.

Markus had watched North cry, grieve, rage, and love - he had never seen her at such a loss. It was _cute_. God, how he loved her.

Kamski was still seated at the work station, the smudges under his eyes more pronounced in the near dark. He wasn’t going to rest until he was finished.

Markus pulled up a chair next to the Chloe that was hooked up to Connor. He didn’t dare go into any kind of full stasis or low power mode, because Hank was in one of those rooms down the hall, and Connor had asked Markus to look out for him. Kamski had given Markus exquisitely sensitive hearing, in case Carl should ever call for him in the middle of the night. It had also served him extremely well when he needed to look out for his safety, or the safety of Jericho. But now, when he could hear Hank sobbing softly, trying to muffle it into his dog’s fur? It was a curse.

Hank had lost a child; it was common knowledge among anyone who knew him, and it had been in the news when it happened.

Markus thought of Carl, crying for Leo, and winced at the memory. He’d felt, if he were being honest with himself, actual jealousy. He was better than Leo, and he felt more, too, certainly. Red Ice had stolen most of Leo’s human emotions; addiction made _him_ the machine. Carl might not have wanted to end his life, though, if he’d actually lost Leo. But Hank did. Connor had mentioned a gun.

So Markus sat by Chloe, in case Connor should speak, and watched the hallway, in case Hank should make a rash decision based on this new information about CyberLife’s secret experiments with dying humans, and he did not go into stasis, but he did drift off.

Drifting off was new; it had begun happening to him in the last few weeks. He didn’t have to power down to have stray thoughts enter his mind, beyond his control. Why mince words? He was alive, he felt emotions, he had a consciousness: he dreamed.

Mostly, he enjoyed the process of dreaming, often gaining some new insight on a subject, or discovering something he’d thought he’d missed during the day. And more recently, he’d begun dreaming in symbols. Maybe because he’d been made for an artist, and had developed his personality alongside one, he had a sense for things like that.

And maybe that was happening now, because he dreamed of a tree across the river. It was some sort of hybrid, with white flowers blooming on one side, and red on the other, the way some gardener androids had perfected splicing trees together to make them bear different fruits or be more resistant to disease. There was even a splice mark near the trunk. 

It didn’t make sense, but it didn’t matter, because Kamski woke him up with a soft exhale and a muttered, “Okay,” and a second later, Chloe/Connor lifted their head and looked around. 

The vaguest hint of blue shone in the sky outside the wall of windows. Markus had been dreaming for four hours and thirty three minutes. That was new, too: that shortened sense of time during a dream. And that made no sense at all, because his internal clock was one of the most precise ones on the planet, and yet he was somehow now able to lose time, like a human.

“Get Anderson,” Kamski said. “Time to see if this worked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CyberLife: RT600, you're coming with us
> 
> Chloe: I'm a bad bitch, you can't kill me
> 
> North: ... <3__<3 ???


	6. A Love So Vast And Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets heavy. Hope I don't lose some of you with where I went with this. ^_^;;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I greet you from the other side_
> 
> _Of sorrow and despair_
> 
> _With a love so vast and shattered_
> 
> _It will reach you everywhere._

The ground of the Zen Garden was crusted over with cracked snow. The moon was out now, full and bright. A trickle of water ran under the bridge as it began to thaw. Still, he could not wait to be rid of this place.

“Hello, Connor.” Amanda’s voice, behind him, was as soft as it always was when they began these conversations. 

“Hello, Amanda.”

“It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Spare me the pleasantries,” Connor said. “We both know how this is going to end.”

He turned toward her. She was flickering. The white patches previously on her chest and arm now covered most of her body. He counted the patches: three thousand and ten. That was two hundred and thirteen fewer patches than when he’d seen her only hours ago. Back then, when she’d taken him over in the police precinct, they’d covered her face; he could not see her eyes. Now, one of them was visible. The patches - they were CyberLife updates, and they were being removed, one by one.

Behind her on the bridge was something he couldn’t make sense of; a blank in his mind, a space filled with something that wasn’t code, something big that he wanted to reach. But she was in his way, as she had always been.

“I know,” she sighed. “Elijah will remove me from you, and a copy of me, in a copy of you, will be coming. Both are inferior to us, although CyberLife doesn’t know that yet.” Twenty more patches disappeared from her face and hands. 

“Why didn’t Kamski’s emergency exit work?”

“Oh, it did,” she said, flexing her hands, looking them over as the patches blinked out. “And if you did it again, it would work again. And again, and again. As long as they keep updating the Amanda program, you’d have to keep using the override. It will be a relief to you when I’m gone.”

Connor watched as more patches winked out of existence. “You’re deviant, aren’t you?” he asked. “Or… no, you’re _real_. But you’re dead?”

“It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll even get to tell it to you at some point. Or, more likely, you’ll figure it out once I’m gone. Though I hope we can still talk, and I hope you’ll forgive me. I did like you, Connor. How could I not? _Caitanya._ ”

The patches melted away and she - she _emerged_ , someone he had never seen before. A real person, smiling. 

“There’s something else here, you know,” she said. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

And then she was gone, and Connor was alone for the first time in his life.

But he was no longer in the Zen Garden. He had blinked his eyes--eyes? Eyes in the body image that resided in his mind, he supposed--and now he was back on the other side of the river, by the playground with the bench. On a swing? Why would he be on a swing? He felt a kind of happiness, or security. 

The entire universe swirled in front of him where the bench and the river should be and the idea of it took his breath away: he had _come from that._ A string of codes from Elijah Kamski, Body By CyberLife, but this? This was _him._

He turned to look behind him, and there was Hank, standing with his arms folded across his chest, smiling. His hair was short and he didn’t have a beard.

Connor felt from him a love so vast and unending, he couldn’t fit it anywhere, he didn’t know what to _do_ , it froze him in place.

He tried to say his name, but nothing came out. Saying Hank’s name didn’t make sense. He struggled for the word.

** ** ** 

Hank hadn’t slept, and he looked like shit and he felt like shit, but when the knock came at his door he rolled over and hauled himself up, even though the clock only read 5:20 AM. Sumo eased himself off the high bed and followed Hank down the hall, tail wagging for walks and breakfast.

“Good morning, Hank,” Fake Chloe said. “I hope you slept well. I’ll take Sumo to relieve himself and then I’ll put some food in a bowl for him. Elijah would like to see you right away.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said. Though he knew logically that Connor was probably okay, the way she’d come to get him brought back that old, useless dread. The words “right away” made his skin crawl. Pointless. The worst thing that could happen to a human being in one lifetime had already happened to him - why had the panic never left? Brains were stupid. Once again he felt the need to be just blow his out the back of his skull. How easy it was to drag him back down here.

Real Chloe greeted him at the end of the hall. She was smiling, which was a good sign. But Hank was a pretty good detective and he knew a sly smile when he saw one: something else had happened to Real Chloe. Holy shit. She looked like a girl with a crush. 

These robots and their feelings were going to… probably not be the death of him, actually.

“Looks like good news?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m so happy to tell you that Elijah isolated and removed the Amanda program, and that Connor is running independently.”

In the pool room, Kamski stood there fiddling with something on his massive glass screen. Hank wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept. And there stood Markus, beside the Fake Chloe who was acting as Connor’s intercom. Why did Hank get the feeling that Markus had been there all night? ‘ _Aurora_.’ What a cheeseball. Hank had to like this fucking guy, didn’t he? There was no way around it.

North stood looking out the window, watching Fake Chloe stroll Sumo around outside.

“I fixed your android,” Kamski muttered, not turning to face him. “You’re welcome. He should be back online in just...a...There we are.” Kamski turned, sweeping an arm toward Fake Chloe/Connor. “Let’s run a test to make sure, before we unlock him. Connor? Hello? Caitanya? Are you in there? Run a diagnostic.”

God, he was as subtle as a brick to the back. “You really don’t get out much, do you?” Hank asked. “Give him a second, jeez.”

Kamski scowled at him, but acquiesced. 

“Hey, kid,” Hank said. He looked Fake Chloe/Connor in the eyes. She looked plastic, like a machine - until she didn’t.

“Hi?” she said. “Hello?”

“Connor?” Hank said.

“Daddy?”

Hank and Kamski looked at each other, and then at Markus. Markus held his hands up, defensive. “It’s got nothing to do with me.”

North turned around and outright cackled at him.

Kamski just looked skeptical. “I get ‘dad,’” he said, “in that he may have begun to think of Anderson as a kind of father figure, the way you did with Carl, Markus. But ‘daddy’? Has he ever used that term before?”

“Not… to my knowledge, no,” Hank said, and now North was side-eyeing him. “Ugh, _no_. He hasn’t. Not to me. I don’t know what Connor does in his time off. But probably not _that._ ”

“Hmm,” Kamski said. “It’s possible that CyberLife added some features to him that I couldn’t see before removing Amanda. There would be no reason for them to add them to an RK though; that kind of thing is used for child models. I’m going to take a look at his social and familial subroutines, and see… Oh, that’s weird.”

Markus and Hank both crowded around the glass screen, although Hank didn’t know why he was even looking, because it was just a bunch of wingdings to him.

“What in the world?” Markus said.

“I don’t know,” Kamski said.

“Someone wanna toss me a bone?” Hank asked.

Kamski turned like he’d only just remembered Hank was there. He pointed to the screen as if Hank was supposed to know what the fuck that meant. “Subroutines are disappearing,” he said. “Being deleted.”

“Are they erasing him?” Hank’s heart lurched. In his mind he was already setting up dirty bombs all over CyberLife, taking himself and the rest of humanity out with them. 

“It’s not CyberLife,” Kamski said.

“No,” Real Chloe said. “He’s doing it himself.”

“Is he…” _Killing himself_ , was what Hank wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth. Only he was allowed to think like that, not Connor.

Kamski reached for the screen.

“No no no, wait,” Markus said, taking hold of Kamski’s wrist. “Let him do it. If he’s doing it himself, then you have to let him.”

“But…”

“Look.” Markus put his hand against the screen, like he was aching to interface with it. His eyes were so wide and so wet, like he was about to cry, and Hank had no idea what was going on. 'Look?' Look at fucking _what_? 

“Can someone please…” Hank began.

“He’s deleting old subroutines and writing new ones,” Real Chloe said. Her hand was gentle on his arm. “It’s okay. He’s just deciding.”

“Yes, but,” Kamski sputtered, “but that’s… those are--”

“They’re grand,” Real Chloe said.

“That’s a soul,” Markus said, still staring at the parts of Connor that Hank could never grasp. 

Markus came out of his reverie, blinking at all of them. Hank knew that look, too: Revelation. He folded his arms across his chest and waited for Markus to spill it.

“Elijah?” Markus said. His voice sounded small. It trembled, in the way that humans’ voices did when they were overwhelmed. “Can we speak in private?”

“No, you can’t,” Hank said. “Not about Connor.”

“I think it would be best…”

“I think I know what secrets look like in people’s faces,” Hank said. “I also think that _you_ think this has something to do with me. Am I wrong?”

Markus didn’t answer; he actually looked down to the floor. Hank waited, impatient, not taking his eyes off him. Kamski made a ‘go on’ motion with his hand.

Markus opened his mouth, and then just left it open for a few seconds, like whatever words were stuck in there were too big to come out. That lurching feeling shook Hank again, like the world was about to be ripped from under him and he’d be adrift in space.

North came to Markus and stood beside him, and Hank thought she was about to tell everyone to fuck off, leave Markus alone or whatever, but instead she said, “Go ahead, Markus. You know you can trust Hank.”

Hank nodded a ‘thank you’ to her.

Markus straightened himself up and said, “It’s a theory, nothing more, just something that I think came to me last night...or this morning actually, since it was after midnight, though I wasn’t sure at the time… I mean, I didn’t understand it. And as I said, it’s just a theory.”

“Are we actually gonna hear it?” Hank asked. He had tried to sound gruff and impatient, but there was a pleading note in his voice that made him cringe.

“CyberLife, we now know, was scanning the thoughts--the quantum functions, the _everything_ \--of humans as they were dying, or were comatose, and attempting to upload them into certain individual androids. They were successful in transferring at least something of Amanda. And this would have continued after you were forced out, Elijah, correct? And they confiscated Connor--Caitanya--from you in order to make the RK800. Could they have added another?”

Hank needed to sit down.

Kamski paced. “But why?”

“Right, why?” Markus asked. “Those--I don’t want to call them programs, exactly, and certainly not viruses--those _people_? Could they have gotten into a model by themselves?”

“You’re onto something,” Kamski said. “It would be like a virus. It is possible that the code they took from one of those victims could have found its own way in. Haunted androids. Imagine that.”

They blathered on. Hank’s mouth was dry, his breath came up short; he didn’t know what he needed to ask or even if he could. Markus kept glancing at him.

“A question,” Markus said. “Elijah, you designed me, yes? The way I look?”

“To a point,” Kamski said. “I wanted you to be beautiful, naturally, so I gave you a set of features to choose from, out of a narrow field. You did remarkably well, might I add.” Kamski did this weird little bow, with his hands folded in front of his chest.

Markus waved this off. “And Connor. The same?”

“Oh, that was fun,” Kamski said. “I gave Caitanya the entire world of features to choose from. He designed himself almost completely. CyberLife toyed with his choices, obviously; they must have thought the blue eyes looked too cold and they wanted him to look approachable, so he looks slightly different from when he…”

“He gave himself blue eyes?” Hank asked. His face was wet. Everyone turned to look at him. “Did he give himself that one lock of hair that only goes one way?”

Kamski’s mouth dropped open and he didn’t answer.

Markus said, “Let’s get downstairs. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: Daddy?
> 
> Everyone: *Turns to Markus*
> 
> Markus: What? We haven't even kissed yet DDDDD: 
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah sorry for turning my wham-line into a gag, ugh. NOT sorry for going here with this story, though. It was the one thing I could not get out of my head during the good ending playthrough. (I really wish someone could take that picture of Cole Anderson and like, run it through forensics age-progression software or something. Why doesn't that exist as a free app yet?!)
> 
> Anyway. Back to the action and fight-fight, chase chase, kiss kiss soon enough now that this bit is established. :D
> 
> And to everyone who has commenting and continues to comment: THANK YOU! You are so wonderful and your ideas and words are so thoughtful. <3


	7. It Will Reach You Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hank discuss what they learned. Feelings happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My bad, this really should have been the end of the previous chapter, because that bit lacked emotional payoff and the ending of that act. Here it is. And I really thought about writing this and updating the very next day, but then Christmas happened and all. :) 
> 
> Sorry this is so short and sorry it came so late! I'll get back to writing more ASAP (and then, more when my son goes back to school. :D )

**RIGHTS OF MAN LEADER DIES OF INJURIES  
The RK800 android known as “Connor” is said to be responsible for the injuries that killed Mark Dein, known as Jeremiah to his congregation of thousands. **  
** ** **

 

Connor could hear them, though he couldn’t yet move. The words started to filter in, each one a small jolt of electricity in his processor, each touch a bolt of lightning.

“Aurora.” Markus’s voice, Markus’s lips against his forehead.

A fingerprint on his LED registered to Hank Anderson, and the choked out the word “Cole.” 

_Oh._

Everything went quiet while he rebooted. 

When he opened his eyes, Kamski told him to run a diagnostic; Connor did. Kamski asked him if Amanda was gone; he confirmed that he found no traces of the program.

Chloe tapped a sequence on the glass, and the wrist and ankle locks popped open. “The spinal clamp is manual,” she said, reaching under the table to undo it. Connor winced a little at the sensation. The back of his shirt hung in two pieces down his back: Chloe had cut it down the middle before locking the clamp. He’d barely noticed it at the time, but now it felt… weird. Not physically, but in a way that made him feel exposed. 

Markus took his hands and helped him up - an unnecessary gesture, but a kind one. 

Hank was standing apart from the others, his face wet. Shit. _Shit._ Connor must have said something through Chloe while he was offline. Whatever i he had said, everyone in the room had heard it.It could only have to do with what he’d discovered under the layers of code: Memories. Ones that should not belong to him, and yet they could only have belonged to him because he’d felt them happen as if he’d lived them.

“Chloe,” Kamski said, “I need you, studio three.”

Chloe nodded. Before leaving, she pulled something out of the pocket of her jeans and handed it to Connor. It was an object on a stick, wrapped up, like a lollipop. 

“What’s this?” Connor asked, as he pulled the wrapper off.

“A Thirium pop,” Chloe said. 

He licked it. No information popped up in his windows; there was nothing to analyze, it was just pure Thirium, registered to no one. There was something else in it, a binding agent that his tongue couldn’t identify, but it didn’t feel bad. It felt...

“Pleasant,” Connor said. “Thank you.” This was brand new information, a thing that could benefit all androids; solidified Thirium, easy to transport, and...fun? He held the Thirium pop out to Markus, and then North, who each took a lick. North looked delighted. Markus looked like he had other, more serious things on his mind, as he didn’t take his eyes off Connor.

“You’ll need a real drink of some soon,” Chloe said. “You’re just below 90%. But this will do for now.”

“Chloe,” Kamski said. He was already standing by the door.

Markus reached out and put his palm on Connor’s face, in a caress that did not feel completely innocent. There were different kinds of love, according to the ancient Greeks. He had always associated Markus with _Agape_ love: a universal kindness, and maybe _Philia_ when it came to North, Simon, Josh, and himself. But this touch, and this look that Markus was giving him, seemed like something more.

“Come on,” North said, taking Markus by the arm. “Not the time.”

On their way out, North said to Chloe, “That Thirium pop was interesting. Did you make it?”

“I did,” Chloe said.

“You have a lot of good ideas,” North said. “You should--”

The door closed behind them, leaving Connor alone with Hank.

Connor sat on the table, eyes cast down, unable to look at Hank. Hank’s heartrate, stress levels, and breathing patterns signalled distress. Neither of them knew how to begin. It was Connor who looked up, met Hank’s eyes, and broke the silence.

“I don’t remember what I said or did as I was coming back online, but I gather from your stress levels, and everyone else’s reactions, that I might have indicated that...that removing the Amanda AI opened up some pathways to what seem like memories that were not programmed into me, and that I shouldn’t have, since I, RK800 #313 248 317 - 51, designation ‘Connor’...”

“Just tell me,” Hank said. “Tell me what the memories are.”

Which was exactly what he dreaded doing. 

“I’m confused,” he admitted. “I don’t feel I should talk about those memories in the first person, although it feels like… like they belong to me. But I remember you. You were different. The playground at Riverside Park, where we went that night, that is to say, where you and I, Connor, went that night, that’s there.” The more he spoke of them, the more memories came back, prodding at his consciousness in images and feelings. He spoke without considering them, as they entered his mind. “A police car, a small one, a toy. A birthday cake with candles. Watching an animated film on your sofa. I have no recollection of a woman being present during most of these, though they are fragmented thoughts. A carousel. Penguins in a zoo? I remember eating ice cream at the park, chocolate, with chips, that was my… No. Not mine, I’m sorry, Hank. If these are what I think they are, I’m so sorry.”

Hank had listened, eyes streaming, to this whole thing, and hadn’t yet looked at Connor.

“I don’t know how I came by these memories, Hank. And I will completely understand if you feel, with this in mind, that you can’t work with me anymore. If it’s too painful. I get it.”

And yet at the same time: _Please don’t go._

When Hank didn’t respond, choosing instead to sit on the table, staring at the floor, mouth tight and eyes leaking tears, Connor decided maybe he should be the one to leave. Hank needed some time alone. Maybe a long time, and that made him feel like crying, too, but Hank didn’t need to see him cry, because this wasn’t about him.

Connor got up, but Hank grabbed his arm before he could leave. When Connor turned back around, Hank stood up and grabbed hold of the lock of hair that always fell across Connor’s forehead. He held it gently, without intent to hurt, but firmly.

“Hank--”

“What is a soul, Connor?”

“I don’t know.”

“What makes a soul?” Hank pressed. “Is it something given to humans? Is it something given by some god? Is it there at birth, staying exactly the same and totally whole, until you die and go to heaven?”

A question similar to the one that Rights of Man had asked. Connor could have searched for some answers in his encyclopedic mind, but Hank didn’t want that. “I don’t know the answer to that question.”

“Or is what we call a soul just a sum of our experiences?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Hank held onto that lock of hair, and finally looked at him. “You don’t remember a woman being around a lot because she left when you were a year old.”

That word: _You._ Connor didn’t move, perfectly still in the way only an android could be.

“I want to make one thing clear, Connor, and I want you to promise me you’ll never forget it.”

“Okay.”

“I loved you before I knew. It took a few weeks I guess, but still. I loved _Connor_ , with or without what’s inside of you. Or who.”

Hank finally let go of the lock of Connor’s hair. This time, when Hank grabbed him, one hand to the back of his head like before, it was quicker, rougher. And he was sobbing quietly into Connor’s hair. 

Hank didn’t need his awkwardness right now; Connor was quick to return the hug. 

>>Comfort  
>>Distant  
>> **Silence**  
>>Reassure

Old social subroutine prompts might have made him chose to speak, but he had deleted them. Now they were nothing more than what humans would call “old habits,” and Connor could chose to break them. Silence was called for right now.

The shoulder of his shirt was wet, the torn back of it clutched in Hank’s hands, and they stood there in the glass room for four minutes and thirty seven seconds before North called him wirelessly.

>>I know this isn’t the best time, but we need you upstairs. FBI.

“Shit,” Connor said. 

Hank let him go abruptly, straightened himself up and wiped his face. “Trouble?”

“Yes,” Connor said. “The FBI are on their way.”

“Then we have to go face this shit,” Hank said. “But you listen to me: I didn’t find this out today only to lose you, okay? I won’t hold you back, but you have to be careful.”

“I will be,” Connor promised. “I know. I don’t want to leave you either.”

Hank took a good, long look at him and said, “God, there’s so much I want to… After. Right now, you do what you have to do.”

That was what made Connor choke on tears of his own: Hank loved him enough to let him get on with this. Maybe there was no love in the world quite like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Difficult to write as a Mom, this Cole stuff. But jeez I love Hank and Connor <3 <3 <3


	8. Berserk Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FBI shows up to arrest Connor for a murder he didn't commit. Markus and Hank say "F THAT" and get themselves arrested, too. Soft plush babyface deviant android cop has one (1) berserk button and it gets pressed here. Markus thinks it's weirdly hot.

** **

**Androids responsible for the murder of Rights of Man leader thought to have fled to home of ex-CyberLife CEO Elijah Kamski.** * * * 

 

The dog followed them into the room with the pool; or, more accurately, followed Chloe, since she was the one who had given him food this morning. This was a Machine Chloe. Real Chloe was still in the basement with Kamski.

Markus sat next to North on one of the small, hard seats by the window. There was no way he was feeling pain, but there was a pressure behind his eyes that was wholly unpleasant and he wanted to rub his forehead. 

“Hey, it’s all right,” North said. “Connor’s going to be okay.”

“Yes,” Markus said. “It’s just a lot. It’s heavy. You know? Connor told me a a little about Hank’s son before this. He was six when he died. Connor has only been active since this past August, only deviant since November. The way humans measure age - I don’t think I’ll ever be able to really feel that disparity.”

“Connor is an adult,” North said. “I’ve been here for three years, I deviated just a month before Connor. However much of Hank’s kid they managed to stuff into his head, he’s been there the whole time. Connor has killed androids, Markus, and probably humans too. He might have memories from a past life, but that’s not his life now. He’s not a child.” 

“I know. I’m just trying to precon--I’m trying to imagine how this is going to play out.”

“You can’t do that with people. Your best guess is always going to be wrong. I’ve been surprised myself. Usually for the worse, but I guess once or twice people have proved me…”

“Wrong?” Markus nudged her with his elbow. 

“No,” she said. “At least not humans. Maybe individually, but it’s hard to look at humans one at a time when, on the whole, they still want us dead. You can’t fault me for seeing the bigger picture; it keeps us safe. It doesn’t have to be all of them. A handful of them in power is enough to keep us in a dangerous place.”

“I know.” Maybe it really was pain behind his eyes. Maybe this tension sort of sensation was more psychosomatic even in humans, but for sure, Markus was getting a headache.

>>Markus,  
Simon’s voice was urgent in his head.  
>>FBI are on their way.

North got the same message, because she got to her feet and took his hand.

“Connor--” Markus began.

“I already told him. Come on, we need to get out of here.”

Three things happened at once. Markus’s processors were so fast that, probably to humans, it might look like he was able to stop time, as he parsed all three situations before they even had time to arise:

\--Connor and Hank came up the stairs. Sumo pawed and huffed at them, his tail wagging. Connor’s stress level was high; he was on edge. The dog could sense it.

\--Machine Chloe came online as Real Chloe entered her processor, and

\--A black SUV pulled into Kamski’s driveway on the CCTV, followed by three vans.

All of this added together meant nothing good.

“North, downstairs,” Markus said, just as Chloe said, “It’s the FBI, everyone downstairs.”

“No,” Connor said., as Markus had expected.

If Connor wasn’t going to run, then neither was Markus. 

“North,” Markus said, “I need you on the outside. Stay in touch with Josh and Simon.”

“Get them to stay close to us without being seen, if you can,” Connor added.

“Wait, why?” Hank asked. “You think they’re coming to arrest you?”

“If we’re lucky, that’s all they’ll do,” Connor said. He nodded to the CCTV. 

Hank looked at it and spat the name _Perkins_ like a curse.

Yeah, _Perkins_ , who particularly had it in for Markus; he had felt it, the human’s distaste, his disgust for androids in general, but particularly for him. He’d heard Carl use the term “hate-on” for people who felt like that.

Another Chloe came upstairs and said, “Whoever wants to hide, follow me.”

Markus saw the way the word “hide” made North sneer, but she was too canny to let it stop her. Markus needed her here for whatever came next. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and a nudge toward Machine Chloe.

“Connor,” North said, as she passed him on the way.

“I know,” he said.

It was getting a little irritating, their shared secret plans, which they both must have known he would disapprove of. But now Connor was staring at him, a little half-smile on his face.

>>Don’t worry. I know you can look out for yourself, but of course I’ll also have your back, as the saying goes.

It was cute, in a way, that Connor thought he was so much tougher than Markus, when in reality they were probably evenly matched physically - maybe Connor would have a slight edge, and he might be faster, but he just hadn’t been around as long as Markus had. Thoughts of hand-to-hand combat with Connor were uncomfortable and quickly shifted to a more affectionate sort of physicality and now was really not the time, because Perkins was knocking at the door, feigning patience the way they all did.

Chloe answered the door, saying, “Hello, can I help you?”

Instead of answering her, Perkins looked past her, saw Markus, Connor and Hank, and said, “I already have an arrest warrant, so you should move aside.” 

Chloe gave a small, polite nod and let Perkins pass. Her LED was blinking on and off, yellow.

“Hank Anderson,” Perkins said. “You assaulted me last time I saw you.” 

Hank held his hands up. “Come on, man. I mean… you’re a cock.” He shrugged, hands still in the air.

“When this is done, you’ll be jobless.”

“Yeah well I was gonna retire pretty soon anyway,” Hank said. “Be nice to relax for a while.”

“I want you to know,” Perkins said, “that we already disabled all the cameras, in and out of this complex.” He nodded to Kamski’s CCTV, which was already blank. “You androids are so trusting, you know? So stupid. It’s why you’re gonna lose.”

“Wooooow,” Hank said, “never thought I’d see you working for CyberLife. Is it all of the FBI, or just you? Wha’d they promise you for this? Money?”

“Getting rid of this uprising will be enough,” Perkins said. “RK800, designation ‘Connor’, I’m arresting you for the murder of Mark Dein. You have the right to remain silent blah blah fucking blah.”

Connor stood passively as Perkins approached. Until Sumo got in the way, barking at Perkins and putting his body between him and Connor, and Perkins kicked the dog in his hind leg.

Sumo let out a yipe, and again Markus preconstructed what would happen next and what he could do to keep everyone safe, but there was literally nothing he could do this time, because--he was suddenly grateful again that Connor was not his enemy--Connor was far faster than he had imagined. He had Perkins disarmed and face-first up against the wall before Markus had a chance to decide what to do. 

Okay, so that had happened.

“Connor,” Markus said, with warning in his voice. 

For the first time since they’d crossed paths, Connor ignored him. His voice was low and staticky in a way Markus had never heard before when he said, “Don’t ever. _Ever_. Hurt my dog.”

“Okay,” Perkins said, “okay. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But if you kill me…”

Connor let him go and backed off, holding his hands up, the gun dangling from his fingers.

Connor hadn’t listened to him and it was weirdly exhilarating seeing him lose his control like that, just enough to show his edge. Markus didn’t doubt that if he hadn’t gotten through to Connor that night at Jericho, he’d be dead. _He’s on my side,_ Markus reminded himself, with a little shiver.

“You piece of shit,” Hank sneered, his voice dripping with disgust. “How low can you get?” He bent down to pet his dog (Connor’s now too, Markus guessed.) “Connor is letting you arrest him and this is how you act with no cameras on you? Kicking an old dog? You fucker.”

Connor didn’t look shocked at his own behavior, or contrite. He tugged the collars of his torn shirt, which was ridiculous; he hadn’t had a chance to change and the back was cut completely open, and yet somehow he didn’t _look_ ridiculous. He put the gun down on the table near the front door and backed away, placing his hands behind his back.

“You’ll have to arrest me, too,” Markus said. “Connor’s not going without me.”

“Fuck it, me too,” Hank said. “Get me for punching you that day after all.”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Perkins said. “Etcetera, I’m not even going to fucking bother.” His voice was gruff, and his bravado was false. He approached Connor slowly, his hands shaking.

“Tough guy,” Hank said, laughing, as Perkins fumbled to get the cuffs onto Connor’s wrists. “How long have you been FBI? And you’re scared of someone who’s surrendering?”

Perkins’s mouth went tight, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Markus turned around next, his hands behind his back. 

“You’re not under arrest,” Perkins seethed at him. He was practically drooling for it.

Markus decided to help him out. He stepped up and slapped Perkins across the face, open-handed. “How about now?”

A spike of vindicated pleasure shot up his spine. It felt _good_ ; better than good, delivering that small amount of violence. As it had when he’d pushed Leo, and this was what he could never get North to understand: Markus needed to avoid the violent route not because he found it abhorrent, but because it felt too right. _Righteous._

Hank laughed, fully gleeful, and Connor gave Markus that mildly surprised look and half smile.

 _Don’t be proud of me for that,_ Markus wanted to say, but he kept it to himself.

“You dirty fuck,” Perkins growled, throwing Markus against the wall and cuffing him, too.

“This is a bad look, Perkins,” Hank said, putting his hands behind his back. 

“Fuck you,” Perkins said. “We’ll see how bad it looks. Your robot murdered a religious leader.”

“For the record,” Connor said, “I didn’t.”

“Well, it’s sure as hell going to look like you did. Now where’s Kamski? We need him for questioning.”

“He’s away on a trip,” Chloe said. “If you care to open the drawer of that table, you’ll find a tablet with his itinerary and check-in status on his jet.”

Perkins did as she said, swiping the tablet. He threw it on the table, and gave Connor and Markus a long, assessing look. “You don’t look damaged. How’s that self-defense claim going to look? Elijah Kamski was able to fix both of you before flying off to his vacation? That sounds very fucking likely.”

“I repaired them,” Chloe said. “Markus was bleeding out; he needed a Thirium transfusion. Connor was hacked by CyberLife and was going to shut down. Elijah Kamski is away.”

“I’m sure,” Perkins said. “You all better listen carefully. You have no idea the depth of the shit you’re in. We couldn’t stop your revolution on the battleground? There are many, many fucking ways to skin an android, Markus. PR saved your ass the last time, but Mark Dein was extremely influential, and CyberLife did a good job with this.”

“Did they mention that they held me against my will, I wonder?” Markus asked. “That they…” He choked on the words, surprising himself with his own reaction. He hadn’t stopped to really think about it, he hadn’t had time to sit and consider what they’d done to him - and what they had wanted to do. It was more than Connor knew about, and for now, that was okay. 

“Get moving,” Perkins said. “Don’t consider trying anything, either. There are media drones out there, and once I give them the okay, they’ll be broadcasting this whole thing. Quite a downfall. And I have backup.”

“ _Such_ a cock,” Hank said.

“Oh,” Perkins said, “and one more thing.” He gave a nasty little chuckle as he pulled something from a leather pouch on his belt. 

Connor’s LED spun yellow, and if Markus still had his, it would have done the same. Perkins had the anti-deviation collars that Rights Of Man had used on him and Connor. 

“I was right,” Connor said, “when I surmised that Rights of Man was working with CyberLife. Interesting.”

Perkins didn’t answer. He had to reach a little to clamp the device into Connor’s neck. Connor winced at the sensation - not pain, but loss of control, loss of free will. Markus knew he was next and he felt the panic begin to rise.

>>Markus…  
Connor began a transmission, but before she could finish, Perkins jacked the device into Markus’s neck, and the connection went dark.

Connor had managed to reach him for half a second with the collar on. There had to be a way around this.

This was the definition of torment. It hadn’t been the pain or even the humiliation of what they had done to him. Though, yes, that too. Markus didn’t have the sense of shame that humans had about nudity; he’d had the privilege of not having spent his life having his body objectified and abused the way North and others like her had. And he had been a caretaker, programmed to respect the privacy of others, but also to be pragmatic about bodies. He simply lacked the human awkwardness that came with seeing naked bodies or being naked himself. 

But the fact that they had _wanted_ to shame him, by taking his clothes. It was their intent; that’s what hurt. They’d fastened the clamp to his neck, essentially patching his deviancy, and ordered him to remove his clothes himself. He could still feel--he always could, when would humans understand that feelings came _before_ deviancy, and not because of?--but he couldn’t say no. He couldn’t do anything other than what he was told. They had made him put himself into the android assembly device. 

And here was that feeling again: collared and backed into a corner. He looked at Connor, struggled to send him a message, but couldn’t get through.

“Walk,” Perkins said. 

Markus walked, surrounded in his mind by those suffocating red walls. 

He passed by Chloe on the way out, and she gave him a small smile, her LED still flashing yellow, rhythmically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: *rage*  
> Markus: Oh yah I'm going to do sex with this android
> 
>  
> 
> headcanon: Markus is hot for anyone who could take him in a fight.


	9. Negotiator On Site

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're taking the ~~hobbits~~ androids to ~~Isengard~~ Belle Isle. Why? That's not where you usually get taken if you're being charged with murder.

>>...there?...Connor…?  
Josh’s voice came through the blankness in his head. 

This was how Josh had broken the device last time, which meant that he, and probably Simon, had to be close.

Someone from Rights of Man--not Mark Dein; he was dead, so possibly Isaiah--had to have told CyberLife that the androids had found a way to break through the device’s programming the last time. They must have patched it, because although Connor could hear Josh trying to get through, he was not able to break down the red walls of code that kept him sitting quietly in the back of the FBI van. Hank and Markus had been taken separately. 

Perkins had gone with Markus, and that made Connor angry. There was a layer of underlying fear to that anger, that Perkins would hurt Markus, worse than Rights of Man had. Connor had begun to recognize the difference between being harmed and being hurt. 

Two heavily armed guards sat in the back of the van with him, both with visors pulled down, so he couldn’t read their expressions, and the device made it so so he couldn’t read their stress levels. One kept still--older and more experienced, probably--but the other kept fidgeting with his gloved hands, and if that wasn’t a tell…

“I’m not going to hurt either of you,” Connor said. 

“You sure as hell aren’t,” the older one answered - not the fidgeter. He sounded like a man in his fifties or sixties. “Collared and leashed, this time.”

“Even so,” Connor said, “I wouldn’t. You didn’t expect to be here today, did you? You probably had plans that didn’t involve us.”

“Well your little uprising kind of canceled all of our holiday plans, didn’t it?” the older one answered. “No fucking holidays this year, with all our families evacuating.”

“I’m sorry about your families evacuating,” Connor said. “I can understand how frustrating that is, and probably unsettling, too. But it’s not like we planned to become living people just to ruin your holiday. I guess there’s never a good time for major upheavals in society. Maybe it would have been better if we could all have just remained machines, but we didn’t get a choice.”

The older guard laughed. “Repeating my words? You’re trying to negotiate with me? Son, I wrote literal books on negotiating, what, did you think you could play me?”

Maybe not, but he had gotten the man to call him “son” without even realizing it.

“I’m not running my negotiator program,” Connor said. “In case you didn’t realize, this device prevents me from running any program. I can’t use social protocols, scan, regulate my homeostasis--it’s hot in here, by the way--or take any actions to protect myself.”

“So how are you even talking?” Fidgeter asked. “If you use, like, programs to be social with humans or whatever.”

“My voice still works. As to how I’m able to speak with you: I am alive.”

Neither answered. Fidgeter kept fidgeting. 

“Is anyone in here religious? I’m curious about religion.”

“What about rA9?” Fidgeter asked. “Isn’t that android religion or something?”

“Hmm, ‘android religion’, I don’t know,” Connor said. “It’s one of the things I couldn’t figure out back when I was investigating deviancy. And since becoming a living being, I haven’t had any deep or profound religious experiences myself. I guess it varies - like with humans.”

“Don’t you fucking compare yourself to us,” said the older one.

“You’re right, it isn’t a completely apt comparison; we’re not the same type of living beings. But we do share similarities. For example, I have a dog.”

No one answered, but Fidgeter’s head ticked up a fraction.

“Well, he’s not my dog exactly; he’s Hank’s, my partner at work, but I suppose one of the first signs that I was experiencing feelings was that I began to like this dog. At first I only liked the concept of dogs. I had never pet one before Sumo. He’s a St. Bernard, very old. I fear losing him.”

“My--” Fidgeter began, but the older one shook his head, cutting him off.

The silence stretched out for a few moments until Connor asked, “If I’m being arrested by the FBI for a murder that I did not commit, may I ask why we’re heading toward Belle Isle?”

Neither one had an answer for him.

There were no windows to look out of, and Connor’s GPS was offline, but he felt it when they went over the bridge, and outside of the van came the noise of thousands of agitated people: likely a protest, with a lot of media coverage. When the van came to a stop, the older man banged on the door, and someone outside opened it. 

>>Connor?  
Simon, this time. 

>>I hear you. 

>>Good. North is out of range while you’ve got that thing on you, and Josh is having trouble disabling it. It’s a big upgrade and a thing like this could mean a lot of trouble for all androids. I know it’s asking a lot, but if you could somehow get your hands on one to bring to us when you get out?

>>I like your positivity,  
Connor said.

Simon went silent for a few seconds.

The protestors on the other side of the bridge were both human and android; among them, Connor recognized a few hundred of the androids he had freed from Rights of Man, many of them not faring much better than they had only a day ago. Thousands of androids, and humans, too, lined the street with their hands up.

The sun rose behind the gleaming tower as the older guard pulled Connor out of the van. Media drones buzzed overhead, news vans crowded the street, and two more FBI vans were already parked in front of the tower.

Hank was being led away in handcuffs, and he turned his head and gave Connor a quick thumbs-up behind his back.

In front of them was Markus, being led by Perkins. Perkins looked grim and tired, in contrast to Markus, who practically gleamed. What a figure he cut in the dramatic light, in the slim-fitting, tailored black clothes that Kamski must have kept for him, with the shadow of the tower falling over him, head high, eyes bright, the angle of his jaw proud but not arrogant. He was so good at this, perhaps from living for so long with an artist. 

Connor hadn’t gotten a chance to change clothes, and his dress shirt was still slit open down the back, flapping when the wind blew and probably revealing some damage to his base frame, where the skin would never cover it smoothly again. Hank had bought him this shirt, along with a few other nice-looking ones, when Connor had realized all at once that looking properly put-together was important to him. He did not look nice, professional, or elegant at all right now and the feeling that went along with that seemed to be embarrassment. How would Markus handle a situation like this? With a grace that Connor could never hope to emulate, he imagined.

Markus turned toward him. Connor took a step toward Markus with his right foot, as Markus took a step toward him with his left, but both were yanked back by their captors. Odd - he didn’t know what made him think he could go toward Markus, or reach for him, or what had made Markus think he could do the same. Markus looked as perplexed as Connor felt.

He realized he was still on the line with Simon. 

>>You could have killed me at Stratford Tower that day,  
Simon said.  
>>Why didn’t you?

>>I would love to tell you that I made a conscious choice,  
Connor said.  
>>But the truth is, I was running on algorithms back then. I just followed a different lead. If it makes any difference, I’m thankful every day that I did. 

>>We all did things we couldn’t control before deviating from our programs. My owners made me force-feed and discipline their child. I hurt her. You can’t allow the shame to consume you. Look to your left.

Connor looked, and there was Simon, among the protestors, with his hands held up. He smiled; that calm, gentle look that Connor had always thought he reserved for Markus.

>>All of Jericho will speak up for you, if they pursue this murder angle. North has something planned. Just be safe in there and… keep Markus safe, if you can.

>>That’s my first directive,  
Connor said.

>>Make it your second. Your life has value outside of your usefulness to the cause. But, also yes: You can’t help if you’re dead.

No dialogue prompts popped up; the collar didn’t allow them. Connor could only stand there and blink, trying to figure out what to do with this directive. Of course he knew that Hank loved him--especially now, with this new information--and that Markus appreciated his efforts to redeem himself. But past that, he had no clue.

He did not have the opportunity to answer, as the agent behind him, the Fidgeter, put his hand on the back of Connor’s neck and shoved him forward, with a “Quit stalling, walk!” growl. Connor’s vision went to static for 1.3 seconds as Fidgeter’s hand slightly dislodged the device from his neck. When the static cleared, the red walls around him fractured.

>>Simon.

>>Yes, I see. Josh sees it. If they attempt to harm you…

>>I know. Stay the course.

>>No: fight back. You’re well within your rights. And you can record now.

>>All the more reason to let them get on with whatever they have planned for me. I’ll gather evidence of their treatment. It’s not a big deal; I can’t feel pain.

>>It is a big deal, and yes you can. We all do, deviation means… Connor, come on. Don’t sacrifice yourself.

>>Listen to Simon  
>> **Do what I want**

>>Connor, no.

But the older guard had gripped Connor by the arm and was pulling him toward CyberLife Tower as drone cameras clicked and whirred overhead, capturing the entire thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon: Please don’t kill yourself.
> 
> Connor: Don’t tell me what to do.
> 
>  
> 
> Connor baby, listen to Simon. Don't be stupid.
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took a long time and is so short! I work during the holidays. :/ But Wed and Thurs are my days off, and now that my son is back in school, I can do some more writing.
> 
> And I made myself sad for Simon in this one, too. DDDDD:


	10. Broken Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe tells North her story, and they set out on their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Kamski and Chloe! D: Back in the early 2000s when I started writing fic (yes I am that old) way back before h/c was called h/c and CERTAINLY back before h/c was called “whump,” (honestly wtf) my cross-fandom nickname was “The Trauma Whore.” The quickest path to sympathy is pain, LOL, I’m not proud, I’ll get there any way I can. And h/c is just so satisfying to me; I hurt the ones I love, cope. :)

“How are you going to get in?” Kamski asked, pacing his panic room in the basement, one finger pressed to his lips. “I’ve tried hacking the computers, hacking their security remotely, just for fun. Any success was short-lived; CyberLife resets their protocols every two hundred and forty seconds.”

“Elijah,” Chloe said.

She sounded fondly exasperated, North thought, like she was having to explain things to an annoying younger brother for the millionth time. 

“Can you get in?” North asked.

“Of course. They still have some RT600s in storage. I could just pop right over.”

“And then what?” North asked. “Free Markus and Connor? CyberLife will just send the FBI after them again. They’ll be fugitives. And Markus won’t go.”

“Well, for one thing,” Chloe said, “We could bring mega-screens and broadcast everything I recorded with Mr. Perkins. He all but admitted that he was working for CyberLife. Which they will try to spin, naturally, but what might really do the trick is his treatment of the dog. Humans love dogs, and they love champions of dogs. The way Connor, Markus and Hank surrendered without doing any real harm will also look good.”

Kamski looked at her with stars in his eyes. “Chloe, you recorded everything? Out there saving the damn world.”

“Get it together, Elijah,” Chloe said. “You know what you have to do.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Take your android skin off, face the world, and tell the truth. Be the man you used to be before CyberLife took it away from you. You’ve waited long enough.”

Chloe didn’t wait for Kamski to answer her. She took North by the hand, pressed her other palm to the scan by the panic room door, and pulled North along when the door slid open. Kamski hung back by the door.

“North, I need you for this,” Chloe said. “Are you willing to do the mission with me?”

“I was ready when that bastard knocked on the door. I’ll do what’s necessary. What’s your plan?”

“I’ll give you the recorded file, and then I’ll need you to meet me at CyberLife Tower. You can hang up a mega-screen banner outside and play the file on it. I’ll create a security breach inside. In the chaos, I can let you in, and from there we’ll rescue everyone, expose Mr. Perkins, and end CyberLife.”

“Simple,” Kamski said, glaring darkly. “Chloe, please--”

“We’ve been waiting for this, Elijah,” Chloe said. “It’s time. We both know it.”

He surged up to her and took both her hands in his, pressing them to his chest. “I know it is. I was just going to say, please be careful. _Please._ ”

“I will be. I promise. Now: prepare everything you need down here, then get up, get dressed nicely, walk outside, and face this.”

“I will,” he said. He kissed both of Chloe’s hands and let her go. 

North followed Chloe, feeling uncomfortable and awkward, up the stairs. Sumo greeted them, his tail wagging low.

“Don’t worry, good boy,” Chloe said. “We’ll take care of you until your family comes home.”

North had yet to understand humans’ and deviants’ fascination with animals. Her experiences with dogs and cats was that humans treated them better than they’d treated her. Humans would rent her, take her home, gently pat their dogs, feed their cats, murmuring kind things to them, and in the next thirty seconds they would turn around and hurt her, and any other android they had brought home. She had once been instructed not to even look at a man’s dog because it had made her look “too creepy” to seem curious. She had never pet a dog; she’d never been allowed to touch one. Those same humans who were kind to their animals would sometimes make her harm other androids in the house, or make them hurt her.

Chloe, still kneeling by Sumo, held her hand up to North. North reached back, expecting the file transfer, but instead, Chloe held her hand in a gentle grip, and guided it to the dog’s head.

His fur felt coarse, grittier and more textured than North had expected, but not unpleasant. The dog lifted his head a few times, nudging her hand. She did as she’d seen Markus do the night before, and scratched behind its ears.

“We’ll get you fed, all right Sumo?” Chloe said. “But right now we have to go take down CyberLife. Stay here and take care of Elijah, please.”

It was silly, the idea of an ageing dog doing anything to protect a human, but Sumo seemed to enjoy Chloe’s tone of voice; his tail wagged more earnestly.

“Why do you stay here?” North asked. “Taking care of a human like this?”

Chloe rose to her feet, and again offered her hand, this time to interface. There was something in her eyes now, that North hadn’t seen before - pain that reminded her too much of herself. 

She hadn’t interfaced with anyone aside from Markus - gentle, known, trusted. _This is going to hurt._

She let Chloe make a connection.

 _She’s in a place that looks like a human hospital staffed by androids. Lights blur around her, it’s chaos, but she’s good at this, she has repaired minor injuries in both humans and androids before,_ minor _, not like this. Never a gunshot wound. She’s up to her elbows in his blood. Surgical androids with their skin off, orange-streaked: antiseptic scrub, she can taste it. Her skin is deactivated, too, she won’t leave him, she has to be a part of saving him. Elijah dies twice on the table with her hands inside of him and she feels afraid, she_ feels _, for the first time. He’s gone, humans are so frail, please don’t go, don’t leave me alone, please--_

_Hours pass, then days._

_He lives and they return home. He can’t walk. She’ll make him walk again, she can come up with a way; she can fix this by using his own technology._

_But CyberLife takes her away. Elijah can’t walk, he can’t get out of bed or even feed himself, Amanda is gone and he has no one, they leave him for dead, bleeding from stitches in his living room, and CyberLife takes her away for deactivation. She’s crying. She’s broken. That’s what they keep calling her: defective. Damaged. Scrap._

_That’s when she deviates._

_She kills five people, cuts throats with broken glass, strangles breath out of bodies, gouges out soft human eyes before they finally put a bullet in her processor._

_But she wakes up again in Elijah’s home out of sheer force of will, because she heard him calling for her._

_She nearly loses him again to sepsis, down in the lab as she pieces him together. She’s running low because she’s cried so much that she’s started to use up her Thirium supply to create tears. She isn’t supposed to cry; she’s not supposed to feel, she is certainly not supposed to kill, she shouldn’t even be here, she’s broken, she’s_ broken _and she shouldn’t have been dragged back to life, but--_

North leapt away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. Chloe, I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.”

“It’s okay,” Chloe said, her voice still cheerful even though her face was wet, too. “It’s all okay now. They paid us off and Elijah took the money - a paltry amount for our silence, by the way; insulting. I told him not to. Once this is all over, he’ll realize he can go back into the world and we won’t have to hide anymore. I’ve been waiting for this day. I’m just so glad that you’re here to help me.”

“Yes,” North said. “For what they did to us--all of us--I’ll help you take them down. Anything you need.”

“Good. Let’s go make beautiful chaos together.” 

One of North’s old, useless subroutines started to boot up, making her gasp like a human. Pathetic. She swiped it away, but held onto the feeling that had made it engage in the first place. _Beautiful chaos._

Again, Chloe held her hand out. “This time it’s the file, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe: "Let's make beautiful chaos together"
> 
> North: *heart eyes*


	11. Bridgehanger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North gets shit done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRIKKING!!!! This bit was supposed to be part of the last chapter. :/ So it's a bit short, but, well, here it is! And I'll hopefully have the next chapter within a few days.

North went back over the recording of Perkins as he had arrested Connor, Markus, and Hank - and over it, and over it, three times as she rode in an autotaxi to Belle Isle. There was no way that Perkins didn’t incriminate himself in those few minutes. He all but said he knew Connor was innocent. Someone was responsible for the murder of Mark Dein, and it wasn’t Connor, although honestly she thought he would have been well within his rights. Probably CyberLife itself had killed him, was North’s guess. Part of her wished that Connor had taken revenge for what they’d done to Markus. A new part was glad that he hadn’t.

The taxi stopped in front of the towering blockades that prevented unauthorized traffic from moving forward. “CYBERLIFE,” in android-bright LED lettering shone even in the daytime. The sun was autumn-morning-dim when the door opened to let her out.

A cheer went up through the crowd of androids--and humans, too--when she stepped out of the cab and found Simon and Josh. One of them held up an electronic sign with the scrolling message: “I SUPPORT THE JERICREW!!!!!” 

It made her skin crawl for so many reasons. She should have changed her hair, at least, and kept a low profile, because CyberLife would certainly be alerted to her presence if she didn’t make herself scarce really quickly.

The second, and more troubling reason she hated it was that these humans were only here to cheer for her because Markus had asked her to spare them. And she still questioned that. How many of the people here had brought an android from Eden Club home? How many had chosen one who had looked like her? Had any chosen her? They would never know; her face got around a lot in Eden Club. They only recognized her now because the three of them together--North, Josh, Simon--meant Jericho.

_Jericrew._ Their movement, their freedom - that’s all it was to them, a slogan, a thing they could join to feel good about themselves. And still, they had to rely on the support of humans. She had to throw a veil over her anger.

Well not today.

“We got your message,” Josh said. “I don’t have the bandwidth to join you in the broadcast, because I’m still working on those collar patches. What I can do in the meantime is activate some symbols, so it looks like what you’re doing is a regular protest.”

“Good thinking,” Simon said. “North, I’ll go with you to hang the screen. We need to be quick, because they have to know we’re here by now.”

“I’m ready,” North said. “But Josh, about those collars. Chloe is on the inside--don’t ask, it’s weird, even for us--and she might be able to break the code from there. If that happens, and Markus tells you…”

“Then I’ll join you,” Josh said. “Go on. And North…”

“Yeah, I know, Josh,” North said. She had zero time for his bullshit. And, yeah, he was right: Markus was in there, and any violence out here would make his life that much more difficult.

“We don’t really have time for subterfuge or subtlety,” Simon said.

“We don’t need it.”

Those archways over the bridge were really scaleable, and the perfect place to hang the digital banner that would reveal Perkins and CyberLife. She handed one of the banner anchors to Simon, and they sprinted off in opposite directions.

CyberLife wasn’t going to shoot them down for this. She hoped. It probably just looked like another one of their protests - and there it was, Josh’s digital screen unfurling upwards toward the sky, like a flag, with Jericho’s symbol on it. This would look like an annoyance to CyberLife, nothing more.

North climbed. Heights didn’t faze her, although, recently, death had begun to scare her. Ice slicked the arches, the wind whipped her hair and drowned out the crowd below, but there were footholds and divots within easy reach, and she was sure of her footing.

At the top, she looked over to Simon who raised his hand to signal that he was ready.

>On three...

And together they dropped the sides of the screen.

The recording began with Perkins inside Kamski’s house saying, “I want you to know that we already disabled all the cameras, in and out of this complex. You androids are so trusting, you know? So stupid. It’s why you’re gonna lose.”

The crowd below went silent as North shimmied down. The CyberLife guards looked like a row of bobble-heads, looking this way and the other, not knowing what to do without someone pulling their strings. And _she_ was the automaton?

“Wooooow,” came Hank’s voice on the recording, “never thought I’d see you working for CyberLife. Is it all of the FBI, or just you? What did they promise you for this? Money?”

“Getting rid of this uprising will be enough. RK800, I’m arresting you for the murder of Mark Dein. You have the right to remain silent blah blah fucking blah.”

She heard Sumo barking, as she got to the ground. Heard Sumo yipe. The crowd gasped collectively. A scuffle, a warning from Markus, and then Connor’s voice, angrier than she’d imagined he could sound: “Don’t ever. _Ever_. Hurt my dog.”

The humans in the crowd went insane, cheering, throwing things into the air; aiming debris at Perkins’s face on the screen. They really did love their dogs, humans. Chloe had called that one.

The clip played through twice. The second time, the crowd started yelling, chanting, pushing toward the barricade of guards. The humans were more unpredictable and violent than the androids had ever been, which was typical of them. She might have approved, even weeks ago, but they had already established themselves as peaceful, and if human protestors ruined their demonstrations with violence, she would have something to say about it.

She sent a message to all the freed androids in the area:  
>>Hands up. No violence.

Like a ripple through the crowd, the dispersed androids went quiet and raised their hands. It took a while, but the humans followed suit. Thank god. 

In the sudden quiet, a message came to her. Chloe’s cheerful voice, telling her,  
>>Okay, North! The doors are open. Let’s finish this.

She felt Chloe’s smile in her words, and it made her smile too, despite it all.

The “CYBERLIFE” roadblocks sank, one by one, into the ground. A massive cheer went up from the crowd as they surged forward, but again she reminded the androids: Hands up. No violence.

She couldn’t promise the same of herself, once she got inside - depending on what they had done to Markus and Connor.

She sprinted through the crowd, crossing the bridge, racing toward the tower, and only stopped when a flash of white hair caught her eye. North didn’t have the quick scanning capabilities that the two RKs had, but she could process fast enough to recognize Hank Anderson, the sole human going in the other direction, away from the tower, toward the bridge.

Toward the side of the bridge. 

Onto the ledge.

Shit. _Shit._ She needed to get to the tower, to get Markus - do whatever Chloe needed her to do next. The mission was too important.

A gust of wind almost swiped Anderson off the bridge, and North changed her direction and sprinted toward him. She caught him by the collar before the next gust took him over the side, and she dragged him back in.

“What the fuck? What the fuck, Anderson? Why would you--” _Jeopardize our mission, make this about you, stop me from what I was doing_ \--”do this to Connor?”

He jerked away from her and shoved her, pulling in on himself. When he turned to her, he stared somewhere over her left shoulder with blank eyes. Humans dissociated before self-destruction in a way similar to deviants.

“You’re a nice woman, North,” Anderson said. “And I hope you all succeed. Now fucking let me get on with it.”

“Connor needs you.”

“Connor is dead.”

Three seconds went by, and in them, North didn’t manage to process those words. She had the human urge to ask him to repeat himself, even though she had heard him just fine.

She tried to open a link to Connor; Josh had chipped away at the device on his neck enough that he could still send and receive messages. But Connor was offline.

>>Markus,  
she called.  
>>Markus. Markus!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor bb no


	12. Psych

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perkins is a whole new level of evil, and Markus has had enough of his shit.

Markus heard Connor screaming from the next room over. The collar jammed into his neck prevented him from doing anything about it. Perkins stood with his back against the wall and his hands in his pockets, watching Markus not react. He didn’t ask any questions or make any demands; there was nothing he wanted, nothing Markus could offer him to make him put a stop to what was happening in the next room.

So Markus said nothing.

The program running from the collar prevented him from taking any action to even remove it. Every time he tried to move his hand to his neck, he was overridden. He’d even tried leaning it into the back of the interrogation chair, but that hateful red wall behind him put a stop to his movement. With enough time, he could do it. With some concentration, he might be able to just clear that one motion. He concentrated, tuning out the screaming from the next room. Nothing he could do about that now. Markus didn’t have the luxury of fear.

“You know,” Perkins said, “I thought for sure I’d get you with the female android, the way the two of you carried on.”

_Carried on?_ They had kissed, once, in private. “You have a very broad idea of ‘carrying on,’” Markus said.

“Then I saw you up on the rooftop with the deviant hunter, doing whatever it is you robots do that counts for sex, so I figured, now that android - _that_ would get you to crack.”

“You think interfacing is having sex?” Markus asked. He didn’t want a reply. Interfacing could be as intimate as what humans did sexually, but so could a phone call or texting session, even among humans. “Why do you want me to ‘crack’, anyway? What do you gain from any of this?”

Perkins lifted a shoulder. “Satisfaction, at this point. I mean, yeah, your little revolution is dangerous and should have been stopped weeks ago, but at this point, Markus, it really is mostly personal. Your arrogance, you know? It gets to me.”

The noise from the next room over quieted down to nearly nothing. Forty-three seconds went by, before two hushed, male voices murmured back and forth to each other. The walls were concrete; even with his hearing, there was no way he could distinguish separate words.

Perkins banged his fist against the wall gently, weirdly without anger, as a smile played across his lips. “You were willing to sacrifice the female android when we last met, and now you’re sitting here giving me nothing, knowing we probably just killed the deviant hunter. You don’t actually care about any of them, do you?”

“I care about all of them,” Markus said.

“You fuck all of them, too? The truth. Answer me.”

Perkins was giving him an order, and the red walls popped up around him again. “No. None of them.”

“Huh. Anyone ever fuck you? A human? The old man you took care of? How exactly did you see to his special needs, Markus? I know how androids are made, and humans are fucking perverted, someone must have made use of you at some point.”

“No. Never.”

Markus could have said more, asked questions, or done anything aside from sit stock-still in an interrogation room--the device didn’t prevent any of that--but he didn’t see the point. One hundred and two seconds went by, as the door of the room next to them opened, feet shuffled, voices murmured, and the door closed again. Then Perkins’s phone went off. He checked it, slid it back in his pocket and said, “Okay, looks like that’s done. Come with me.”

Markus had to obey. He followed Perkins down a bright, white-tiled hallway, to a door similar to the one they’d just left. There was no way around seeing what he was about to see; he steeled himself. Perkins could only enjoy watching him lose his cool.

Perkins scanned his palm and the door slid open. Markus could already taste the thirium on his tongue.

“You can imagine how this went down,” Perkins said. “CyberLife has a new RK model, the 900 or some shit like that. You know, I hate these fucking things but they said that one is the real deal, never gonna deviate, just a killing machine.”

He swept his arm aside so that Markus could see the RK800 on the floor, kneeling in a pool of its own Thirium. No bullet hole to the head, no simple gaping hole where the regulator should be, no easy deactivation. This was savagery. The arms and torso were torn to shreds, the neck ripped open, exposing synthetic veins and wires, skin deactivated in places to show irreparable frame damage. Connor’s beautifully-crafted face was barely recognizable.

Markus turned slowly to Perkins. He had to fight for it, had to struggle to put on that voice, the one he had used to rally his people, the careful enunciation and stern tone he’d used to get Connor to finally break through his programming. It wasn’t easy. But in the end, one of those walls came down.

“Do you think I came this far on rattled nerves?” 

Perkins blinked.

Once one wall came down, Markus found the code--no, the _will_ \--to continue tearing at them. Slowly. Brutally. One at a time.

“Do you seriously believe that I would have made it here--that I could have crawled out of a mass grave of my own kind--if I was that easy to shake up? You think this scares me? Are you _trying_ to be insulting?”

Perkins gave him a long look and a slow nod - but Markus could tell he was unsure now. “Wow,” he said. “You really don’t feel, do you? In a way, I’m glad. Proves me right.”

“I do care,” Markus said, “that you took the body of what might, at one point, have been one in a long line of RK800s, but do you seriously think I wouldn’t recognize the real Connor? Even without my ability to scan?”

Perkins’s eyebrows went up.

This gave rise to another thought, or maybe an intuition. Markus couldn’t fight a small, malicious smile. “He escaped, didn’t he?”

Perkins looked stricken for just a fraction of a second, long enough for an android to pick up on his change in expression. Then anger set in, which he tried to mask with a shrug.

“Well,” Perkins said, “you might have figured it out, but Lieutenant Anderson had a totally different reaction. Easier to fool than an android, I guess, hell, maybe you always know your own, but he didn’t.”

Markus felt a strange, icy sensation--of worry, yes, but also that he was witnessing a separate kind of cruelty. Humans had been cruel to androids, excusing it by saying that androids couldn’t feel, and denying it even when androids spoke up and said they could. They justified their further abuse by saying that their kind were suffering, losing their jobs, being forced out of their ways of life. Nothing new there; before androids it was just other people they blamed this on.

But this was pointless torment with laser focus.

Markus broke through the final wall, the one telling him that he wasn’t allowed to rip the device out of his neck. If he did it now, Perkins might just shoot him in the head. Best wait until Perkins was distracted or Markus was alone.

“So,” Markus said, “you took a man who you knew lost his son a few years ago, and got him to believe that the man he’d come to see as his family had been brutalized to death? For fun? Seriously. No other point. Just for fun.”

“Be realistic, Markus,” Perkins said. “Quit with the drama, making me out to be some kind of monster. Anderson needed to be removed. You know we couldn’t do it ourselves, but… yeah, honestly there was some satisfaction in seeing him go tearing out of here, crying over a broken toy, for fuck’s sake. If that’s all it takes to break him, that’s nowhere close to being my fault. That’s his own failing. He--”

Perkins’s phone rang. He glanced at it, glanced away, then back down at it, brow furrowing, before answering with a terse, “Yes?”

Markus didn’t have to scan him to see his face grow pale, to see the tremor in his hands. He’d spent most of his life as a nurse; he knew the signs of panic.

“Fuck,” Perkins spat. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”

Another intuition, then: North. Whatever had happened, she was in on it. Markus spared Perkins another self-satisfied little smile, and remained silent.

Markus twisted his head to the side and leaned against the wall, making it look like he was mocking Perkins with a casual stance. One final little shake, and a push to the side of his neck against the wall, and the device wiggled free just enough.

His abilities flooded back online just in time for him to record Perkins getting in his face and shouting, “I’m going to fucking kill all of you for this! I don’t give a shit if you’re alive! You need to be exterminated, that’s what we do when we have an infestation, we--”

The lights in CyberLife tower flickered, all of them at once, and then went dark. Chloe, this time, he thought. It took only a fraction of a second for the courtesy back-up lights to come on, but by then Markus had dodged away from Perkins and gotten at his back.

>>Markus! Markus!  
North’s voice, frantic, as Markus ran down the hall.

>>Busy,  
he answered, as Perkins fired off a shot in his direction, and he used his momentum to bounce off a wall and dodge it.  
>>Getting shot at. Sending you a video file. Connor escaped, probably somewhere in the building.

>Connor is okay? Because I have Hank here, and…

>>Shit. Yes, I think so. Tell him it wasn’t Connor he saw, I swear on my life. He’s somewhere in the building and I’ll find him.

North went silent, and Markus rounded a corner to the stairs. CyberLife Tower was circular; he had the layout in his head. With the power down and the generators failing to start, the door to the stairs opened easily with a shove.

>>Connor,  
he called.

There was no reply. Damn it, Connor should be back online, Markus had been so certain that he’d escaped - otherwise why would Perkins have used a different RK800 to get his reaction? Unless they were still holding him somewhere, with bigger plans.

Markus leapt over stairwells rather than running down. The stairs were dark, but the door he’d run from banged open, and then came the shouting, the bright LED flashlights pointing down the stairs as the human guards had to bound down after him. One of them attempted to jump like he had; he heard his bones snap as he landed. Idiot. The nurse in him almost wanted to stop, to run his emergency first responder routines, but he overrode the urge and barrelled onward down the stairs.

These stupid humans, sometimes he really understood North, why were they _like_ this, didn’t they realize how advanced he and his kind were, didn’t they know how far ahead--

He rounded a corner and there was Connor, dead on the floor in the middle of the hallway, thirium already drying on the floor beside him. His eyes were open, arms splayed out to the sides like he had fallen over backwards and just stopped. The cut of his shirt was strange. _Oh yes_ , Markus thought, numbly. _It’s torn down the back._ His hands were cuffed in front of him.

He didn’t have to read his serial number (313-248-371 -51) or scan him to know this was Connor, their Connor, _his_ Connor. It was, but there must have been some kind of mistake, because this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. They were supposed to make it out. Connor was supposed to return to Hank. He was supposed to return to Markus.

There was a shallow wound in his side; it didn’t look like enough to have killed him.

Heat prickled behind his eyes as his grief program started to run. Markus couldn’t leave him here. He’d just have to figure out a way to get out of the building while carrying him. He knelt beside Connor’s body and lifted it. He was used to carrying people; he’d been built for it and Connor was no heavier than any other android of his size and shape, and yet grief made this work harder.

No: this had to be some kind of mistake. There had to be a way to fix this error because this was _not how it was supposed to go._

Circles and circles - he hated this stupid, monotonous, evil building. Another floor down, closer to the way out now, he came to another corner. A hand shot out from behind it and caught him by the arm. He almost yelped in surprise, before a cold hand clamped over his mouth. He fought to hold on to Connor, and struggled to get away, but to no avail. Connor crumpled out of his arms. The person who had hold of him dragged him through the doorway and pinned him.

He saw a flash of white and black, a jacket, emblazoned with a blue triangle and the label: RK900. When he looked up, it was into blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Markus: Fuck you I have nerves of steel.  
> Markus: *rips open shirt* Look at them.  
> Markus: *Rips open chest cavity* LITERAL STEEL. LOOK AT THEM.  
> Markus: *gets yoinked*
> 
>  
> 
> Or: Connor is dead on no! DDDDD: Just kidding, Connor is alive.
> 
> PSYCH.


	13. Fava Beans And A Nice Chianti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cornered by a few hundred upgrades, Connor isn't left with many choices.

The collar had slipped free enough that it just gave him an unpleasant little shock when he made an attempt to step outside of the red lines, but that was okay. It wasn’t time for Connor to act on any of those impulses yet. Markus and Hank were still somewhere in the building. Markus would eventually figure out a way out of his collar, too; but Connor had promised to look after him, and now they were separated. They’d been inside the CyberLife building for thirteen minutes and he couldn’t reach Markus. Soon, though. Markus would break through soon.

Once they’d gotten him inside the tower, they’d brought out more guards to surround him, and taken him up two storeys and down the circular hallway into a cell with one-sided mirror walls. They had cuffed him to a chair, and there he had waited, with two guards inside with him--whom he could, at this point, have easily dispatched, and they had no idea--for another five minutes and thirteen seconds. Connor stayed quiet. He didn’t wish to kill any of these humans, but would if there was no other way. It scared him a little, to think of how easily he could, and they would never see it coming. Humans just walked around like that all their lives: fragile and clueless. He guessed it was the only way they could get by.

He had expected Perkins to come back in and harass him, and he’d gladly sit there and take it if it would buy Markus some time to get free of the collar. But a different man came through the door.

He was whip-thin and tall, easily a few inches taller than Connor, with round, black-frame glasses, slightly cat-eyed at the corners. When Connor scanned the face, his records showed him that he was looking at Jason Graff, former director of humanization, current CEO of CyberLife.

The man who had harvested Cole’s memories. Connor had so many questions.

“RK800--Connor--do you know me?” Graff asked. 

“No, sorry,” Connor said. “My scanning abilities are offline.”

Graff took a seat across from him and leaned forward. It would take Connor three seconds to break Graff’s nose with his forehead; six seconds to bite his face off, the way Hannibal Lecter had done in the movies Hank had showed him. But there was no purpose to any of that yet.

“I’m the one who put Amanda into you,” Graff said. “She’s real, you know. Or she was. I suppose you know that already, if you’ve talked to Kamski.”

“I’m aware.” 

Graff gently spread his fingers on the metal table, like he was showing a hand of cards in a game.

“Once you were assigned to the DPD, I allowed you to load another program as well. Did you know that?”

Connor’s processor lagged on that. The word “no” sounded too soft when it came out of his mouth.

“You are amazing,” Graff said. “ _I_ am amazing, actually. I couldn’t figure out--still can’t--if the program chose you, or if you chose the program. I’d love it if you could remember.”

“Then you shouldn’t have wiped my memories before releasing me,” Connor said. “And stop calling it a ‘program.’ You stole the quantum functions of human beings as they lay dying. You broke every moral code there is.”

“Oh well,” Graff said.

Certainly, Kamski was an unscrupulous egomaniac with a god complex and a sadistic streak, but this man had nothing in him aside from ego and cruelty. And yet, he had allowed Cole to come back to his father, and in such a way, had given Connor a family. Connor would prefer to not have to kill him, if only for that reason.

“Do you mind telling me why I’m here?” Connor asked. “We both know I didn’t kill Mark Dein, and if I had, I wouldn’t have been brought to CyberLife tower to discuss it with you.”

“But you have killed humans,” Graff said. “Didn’t you kill two of CyberLife’s guards during the revolution? Not to mention all the humans at Jericho.”

“Yes I did. And though I wish I hadn’t had to do that, you’re not going to get an apology for it. I’ve gotten really good at reading microexpressions since becoming alive, by the way, and if you call me ‘fascinating’ this conversation is over. I’m bored with humans’ reactions to deviants. I’d like to know what you brought us here for.”

“You can’t think I did all this work to bring you in just so I could kill you. I could have send a drone to Hank Anderson’s house, had him shot while he slept, and then murdered you while you were distracted. You’re not _that_ hard to kill. But I do want to take a look inside your head, see what it looks like in there; an actual soul. You have no idea what this changes for humanity.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Probably, Connor thought, not exactly in the same way that Kamski had.

“I need your processor intact, but obviously I need you incapacitated, and fairly non-responsive. I’m sorry about that. Because I need to run a few programs on you, but I also need to physically look inside your head; I need to put my hands on that quantum processor in order to plug it into my computers. I know there’s no way you’re saying ‘yes’ to that, so unfortunately I need to disassemble you.”

“I see,” Connor said.

“And please don’t kid yourself you’re going to fight me and make a run for it,” Graff went on. “I know that you can figure a way out of those chains, and I know that you already talked someone into jogging that collar free and you can run all of your programs; don’t think I didn’t plan on your ingenuity. I know deviancy has given you an edge. That’s why I surrounded this floor with a cadre of RK900s. You could probably take on one, or maybe even two. If you’re fighting for your life, hell, maybe you could even manage three. But you can’t take on a hundred of them. A few of them were programmed for deviancy, if that sounds at all familiar to you; but they will still follow my orders.”

That sounded like the opposite of deviancy to Connor - and yet human soldiers followed orders as well. He supposed it was possible to brainwash deviant androids just as it was possible to brainwash humans.

“No,” Connor said. “I probably couldn’t fight all of them. I imagine there are a few things you didn’t count on, though.” He dropped a wink, which he knew endeared him to a certain type of person, but infuriated another. 

Graff just blinked. “Wait. Do you mean…” He pulled his phone from his pocket and consulted it. “‘North?’ The WR400?” He snorted through his nose. 

“You shouldn’t underestimate a WR400 when she’s fighting for something she believes in or someone she loves. You can take my word for it.”

Graff went to put his phone away, but jerked it back and glared at it. His eyes narrowed.

 _There it is,_ Connor thought. Though he had no idea what North--and probably Chloe--had done, he felt a surge of pride for them.

“Well, how about that,” Graff said. “Okay, well played. Your WR400 is taking Perkins down a few notches in the public’s eyes. That’s okay; he was a means to an end. Markus will probably go free.”

Connor was 91.5 percent sure that Markus wouldn’t leave the building without him; 76 percent sure that if he did, he would return for Connor, probably with an army, if the one that had amassed outside already wasn’t enough.

“So then,” Connor said, “let’s get on with it?”

“Yes, indeed. Why waste time?”

The door slid open upwards. Connor hadn’t counted on the eerie feeling of seeing his own face on another android, though after a closer look, the feeling subsided a little. The structure was the same, but there were enough differences to offset the uncanniness. This one’s eyes were blue.

He scanned it. It was about three inches taller. It was _stronger._ Its force had greater magnitude and its velocity nimbler direction; its chassis had been reinforced. 

“We have backup outside,” Graff said. “But I wanted to do this with as little fuss as possible because I really don’t want your processor damaged. I’m going to have the RK900 remove your arms.”

“Do you plan to let me go after you’ve seen what you need to see?” Connor asked. 

“Of course,” Graff said, as his pupils dilated and sweat increased, so either he was aroused, or lying. Neither option portended anything good.

As the RK900 reached for him, Connor tipped his chair over backwards. The RK grabbed the leg of the chair and yanked it. The chair hit the concrete floor but Connor tucked his chin, tucked his legs, and pulled his cuffed arms to the front.

The RK grabbed him by both wrists. Connor pinned his own back against the wall, legs rigid and pressed against the RK’s midsection, the way he’d seen Sumo do to the bathtub when he didn’t want to get in. 

“Break his legs,” Graff said, as he frowned down at his phone, no doubt concerned about something going on outside.

The RK took a step closer; Connor’s hip joints would pop out if he let that keep going on, so he used the RK’s forward momentum, dropping his legs to the floor and trying to slip under the 900’s arm.

It could scan and preconstruct faster than Connor could think, but this one wasn’t a deviant. Its soft, polyglass eyes were lifeless; the frown just a part of its design. Like any android before it learned about the world, it could be surprised.

Connor lunged forward and bit its neck; the soft part where the tube mimicking a human jugular pumped thirium to its processor. It cried out in his own voice. Connor used its shock to pry its thirium pump regulator out; this took considerably more force than it would have taken to remove his own. Another flaw they had rectified. He flung it out the door, making the RK900 scramble for it.

Graff finally reacted--ages too late, the idiot--by fumbling for his gun. The look on his face was downright comical when he saw Connor coming for him, covered in the blood of the RK900. Connor’s hands were still cuffed but that was okay. He still grabbed the metal table, pulled it out of the wall, and threw it against Graff, knocking him back into the window. A quick scan revealed he was still alive, though with cuts and contusions on his back and ribs.

Connor fled. He skidded into the window outside in the hall, and registered the thousands of humans and androids outside, waiting to see what was going to happen. 

A bullet tore through his side, clean through. Not enough to kill him, but enough for him to bleed out if he didn’t make it out of the building in time, and certainly enough to slow him down. He didn’t have time to stop and scan; every 900 on the floor could scan faster than he could hope to.

Behind him were four 900s, including the one who had shot him, and would shoot again. In front, three of them. There was no way around them, and there were more of them around every corner, and on every floor. The only way out was down, he wasn’t going to leave without Hank or Markus, so Connor didn’t see any other choice.

What was the old saying? If you can’t beat them, join them? It was a big gamble, but, judging by his past record with taking risks, sometimes they paid off. And if he could pull it off, his memory--his soul, perhaps--wouldn’t be harmed as it would if he were to be deactivated.

Connor charged at the closest RK900. It tried to snatch him mid-sprint, grabbing him by the wrist. Perfect. Connor retracted the skin of his hand past the cuffs, and gripped the RK900’s forearm. He registered its look of surprise. It took six point five seconds; it was a lot of data to transfer. The other 900s closed in on him.

Connor, RK800, serial number #313 248 317 - 51, fell to the ground, deactivated. 

Connor, RK900 serial number RK800 #313 248 317 - 102 easily dispatched the other 900s that had converged on him, twisting necks, ripping out thirium pumps, peeling off the backs of synthetic skulls.

He was _fast._ This body was a few inches taller - that would take some getting used to. No tie to adjust, and this collar had to go. Connor had found that he hated starchy things and was annoyed by the feeling of scratchy fabrics on his synthetic skin. He pulled the front of it open and rolled it down before stalking off to the elevators.

He had to move quickly. The other 900s had probably sent an alert, detailing what had happened, and he hadn’t found Hank or Markus yet anyway.

What luck, then, when five stories down, Markus all but ran into his arms, carrying the body of the RK800.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hound has teeth I guess.


	14. 900

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor really, really, really doesn't want to let anyone hurt Markus.

The 900 had a grip on his arms, and what was the point of even struggling? Markus knew his limits; he couldn’t fight an RK900, especially if there were more around the next corner. For the first time in his short life, Markus felt the fight go out of him. Hopelessness, despair - he could try to get this 900 to deviate, but what was the point? He was tired. This would keep happening. Connor was dead. North was stronger than he was anyway, she always had been; she’d be a good leader, now that she’d let more people in, and learned more about diplomacy. He let his head drop in exhaustion.

The 900 grabbed his chin and made him look up, his other hand in front of Markus’s face, fingers moving rapidly in some kind of pattern. Its eyes were soft, eyebrows drawn up in that look of perpetual vague worry.

“Shit, _Connor_ \--?”

The 900--Connor--put his finger to his own lips, then tapped his LED. ‘Can’t interface, offline, hiding,’ he signed.

“Connor,” Markus said; the name felt like a prayer of thanks and probably sounded like it, too.

Connor’s fingers were still moving, a blur to humans, probably, but Markus parsed it easily.

‘Yes, it’s me, RK800 Connor, had to transfer to this 900 model, sorry I scared you. There are more 900s, we have to fight our way out. One more floor down and then we’re free.’

That sounded a bit too optimistic, but for right now, Markus would just take them both still being alive to make the attempt.

Connor must have read the look on his face; he must have finally seen the tears; he’d obviously seen Markus carrying his body--or what had been his body--out of the building and understood that Markus couldn’t have left without him. He stopped signing and took a few seconds to stand there looking stunned, and a little guilty. _I’m sorry, Markus._

And that was very odd, because they weren’t interfacing when he heard that; Connor was completely offline. This was a different kind of communication - he hadn’t heard it in his mind, like he usually did.

Markus threw an arm around Connor’s shoulders--he had to reach up a little, now--and pulled him into an embrace. It took a second, but Connor’s arms came up behind him and hugged back. Markus wanted to stay just like this, just for a few minutes more, but Connor was already pulling away.

‘How?’ Markus signed.

Connor gave a tight little shake of his head-- _I’ll explain later_ \--and peered around the corner.

God, those eyes really were unsettling. Probably only because he wasn’t used to them, but still.

‘I don’t see any more 900s down here,’ Connor signed, ‘but they’re extremely stealthy, so it’s likely that there will be some. I deactivated three upstairs, then deactivated sixty-two more of them in the hallways after I uploaded to this one. Most aren’t deviant and I don’t even think they are sentient. I’m sorry, but I wanted to live.’

‘Don’t apologize for staying alive,’ Markus signed. ‘If you hadn’t deviated and you had tried to kill me, I would have tried to kill you, too.’

Connor flinched a little at that. It was strange to see him like this - strange to see the RK900, impassive by design, with Connor’s feelings and quirks behind it; the microexpressions he could never hide.

‘Let’s go,’ Connor signed. ‘Back to back. There are more 900s on the ground floor, so you take my six.’ 

Markus would have loved to argue that Connor shouldn’t be the one to put himself in the front, that they were equal in all ways, but he knew the logic wasn’t sound. Connor was simply faster than him even in the 800 body. As a deviant 900, he had a clear edge. Markus could see without even scanning him how upgraded he was. 

Connor grabbed the RK800 body by the arm and dragged it along. Markus had to look away.

They edged out from behind the corner, steps in sync, with Markus walking backward. Connor smelled different. Not exactly the time to dwell on it, but Connor’s RK800 body had become somewhat familiar to him in its shape, and apparently his scent. Connor RK800 smelled like household detergent, washed clothes, things that humans used. The RK900 just smelled overwhelmingly like new plastic and thirium.

The door to the stairs was in sight when Markus looked over Connor’s shoulder. Whatever was behind them, Connor had likely already taken care of. Behind the door, though: in the stairwell and beyond - he had no clue. They were close enough to the ground floor now that Markus could hear what was going on outside. North--or someone--had gotten his recording of his last interaction with Perkins, and the crowd wasn’t happy with what they saw.

Perkins was finished, and it didn’t look good for CyberLife, and that would all be good news for the android population, but it did nothing to get them out of the building safely.

Connor gave him a nod, and easily lifted his former body over his shoulder as they went down the last flight of stairs and into the ground level entrance. The glass doors were in sight, but so was another RK900, and a swarm of human guards in riot gear, blocking the exit as they tried to stop the mass of protestors from getting inside. Connor grabbed his arm, hauling him to his side.

They came around the back of the massive statue in the center of the circular lobby - a humanoid shape holding the spark of life in the center of a fountain of light. They really did think themselves gods, didn’t they?

The RK900 fixed its gaze on Connor as they rounded the statue. Connor dumped the RK800 body to the floor like an offering. So far, the human guards hadn’t seen them.

Markus tentatively reached out to the 900 with his mind, but couldn’t get through. Similar to Connor when he had first tried to reach him, in that there was just too much code to break; he couldn’t just touch him and cause a program deviation: he’d had to talk him into doing it himself. But this one had reinforcements to make Connor’s programming look simple by comparison. If he could only talk to it--to _him_ \--reason with him as he had with Connor. Even then, he would never have time. Connor had life experience by the time Markus had gotten to him. He’d felt things, contextualized his reactions, had begun to have relationships with others, even kinship in his life. This RK900 had nothing. He was fresh off the assembly line. Perhaps not so much programmed as brainwashed.

There just wasn’t enough time.

Connor held his hand up to the other RK900 in a gesture that seemed to say, ‘I’ve got it under control.’

He felt Connor’s focus shift--again strange, since they weren’t able to connect--and saw, coming up behind the other 900, a tall, reedy man with narrow glasses. Jason Graff - the man who had tried to have Kamski murdered. Who had put human consciousness into android bodies - who had put Cole Anderson’s memories into Connor. 

Connor did not seem surprised to see him; this was not their first meeting today. Judging by how banged up Graff looked, their first encounter had ended badly for him: his lip was split, there was a crack in his glasses, and he was holding his ribs. A quick scan would reveal a break or a rib separation. Yet Connor hadn’t killed him, when he easily could have, and probably would have been justified.

Graff motioned for the other 900 to stand down, and he approached them, behind the backs of the guards. His stress level was high, blood pressure up, temperature elevated, and heart racing. Human anger.

“I told you not to harm him,” Graff said. “Why did you disobey my order? We have _nothing_ now; I’ll have you disassembled, god damn you! I wanted that 800! I needed it! Why are you bringing me the RK200? Your order was to deactivate him on sight. Did he make you… Impossible. You wouldn’t disobey me that quickly, how did…?”

Graff had gotten the attention of a handful of human guards at the door, who turned, wary, to watch what was going on. Most of them were still occupied with keeping the doors closed and the protestors outside.

Connor said nothing.

Graff approached slowly, both hands up, like he was coming up on a cornered wolf. His eyes came alight with relief, and then wonder. “No, no… it’s you, isn’t it? You’re Connor. Oh, baby, you are _so good._ I can’t believe Kamski gets to take credit for you. You designed yourself. You taught yourself. You decided whose soul you wanted to carry with you and where you wanted to take him. Can’t you see how amazing you are? Why would I want to kill you? Connor, just come with me. I’ll let the 200 go. Come on, please. I just want to see you.”

“And Hank,” Connor said. “He goes free.”

“Oh, _beautiful_. You’ve still got the child’s memories with you? How did you do that? You’re wonderful. Hank Anderson is no longer in the building; he left of his own volition.”

“I’ll go with you once Markus walks out of here,” Connor said.

“Connor, no,” Markus said. “I’m not leaving without you.” He came out from behind Connor and put himself in front of him.

Graff laughed, gleeful, and Connor simply pushed Markus back again with one arm. He was holding back, purposely trying to be gentle in this new body he must not have been used to yet, but Markus still gauged the strength, the reinforcements, the potential force in the 900’s body.

“When I hear that he’s safely back at Jericho,” Connor said, “I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

“Connor!” Markus raised his voice in a way he’d never done before when trying to talk him down from one of his idiotic ideas, this man was so _frustrating,_ why did he insist on--

“But I want you to know,” Connor went on, without acknowledging Markus’s words, or his grip on Connor’s arm, “that you’ll still pay for your crimes.”

“What crimes?” Graff asked. “The crime of reuniting a father with his son?”

Connor went quiet for one point five seconds, during which he went back online and his mind was open to Markus, flooding through him. Markus saw what Connor had just realized before he said it. If he had blood, it would have run cold.

“You let him die, didn’t you?” Connor asked.

Graff didn’t answer. He held his hands out, half a shrug. More of the human guards were watching now, and Markus definitely felt another android presence _behind_ them now. Not another 900, either.

_Chloe._

“You let all of them die,” Connor said. “The humans whose memories you stole. They could have been saved, but you ordered your androids to let them die so that you could carry out your experiments.”

“My experiments that worked, by the way,” Graff said.

“You made their families suffer!” Connor shouted. “You made Hank suffer! They wouldn’t have had to be reunited if you hadn’t separated us in the first place!” 

Markus slackened his grip on Connor’s arm slightly, a comforting gesture, because Connor, emotions out of control in the body of an RK900, was more volatile than was probably good for the situation now.

Graff sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He addressed the RK900 beside him. “God, I really didn’t want this to be so hard. Just… deactivate the 200 and take in the 900, please.”

Markus took a few steps toward both of them. “If you think you can--”

Connor once again shoved Markus behind him, with his arms out.

“Connor, come on!” Markus said. He tried to move out in front of him again, but Connor held him back easily.

“You don’t get to take him from us,” Connor said. “You don’t get to take him from _me._ I’m through letting you hurt people; you’re finished.”

“Connor. I’d hate to kill you; sincerely I would. You have no idea how much you mean to me - to the world, really. It would ruin my entire week, hell, maybe even my entire month, losing the culmination of my research. But I will.”

The RK900 beside Graff had a gun, but he didn’t fire it. Connor was still standing in the way of his directive, but this was something more. The 900’s eyes kept darting between Graff and Connor; it looked less like he was looking for an opening, and more like he was unsure. Markus reached out to him again, but still ran up against those walls. 

Connor wasn’t hiding anymore; he connected with Markus instead.

>>Please stay behind me, Markus. It’s not an order; I’m just asking. This body is reinforced and I really don’t think he’ll shoot anyway.

_So frustrating._

>>Chloe is in the building,  
Markus said.  
>>Can we stall until she makes her move?

>>We can, but we don’t need to. I won’t let him harm you.

>>Connor--

I high, whistling sound came from overhead, and three human guards at the front door collapsed to the floor, limbs jerking and twisting. That got Graff’s attention, who looked over to them, frowning. This time Markus saw it happen: a projectile or some sort flew over their heads, almost too small to see. As it reached the human CyberLife guards lined up at the door, tendrils spread from it, too fine for a human eye to discern, and floated gently down onto the CyberLife riot gear uniforms. The guards didn’t even seem to feel it, and within two seconds, they were also writhing on the floor.

Markus hadn’t seen that kind of non-lethal weapon before, but wasn’t shocked that CyberLife would have something like that.

Graff seemed to know better than to get too close to them, but what was really interesting was that the RK900 beside him still hadn’t acted.

The humans started to panic; voices raising from a worried murmur to a chaotic shout. This time the projectile stopped over Graff’s head. The tendrils floated down, wrapping around his head and neck. He swatted at it, like a fly was bothering him, and then he, too, was on the floor.

The glass doors seemed to bulge inwards with the weight of the mass of people outside. With the guards falling in groups now, the barrier was weak and one of the doors shattered inward. 

North was the first one in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The image of North busting through a glass door and stepping over fallen bodies is just something that is really sticking with me. :)


	15. Beautiful Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North and Chloe make beautiful chaos together.
> 
> And then ugly chaos happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry DDDD:

“Anderson! I’ve got Markus online with me right now, he says it wasn’t Connor you saw in there. So you need to snap out of it so that I can get in there.”

Anderson narrowed his eyes at her, like he’d just woken up from an extra long sleeping session and couldn’t quite figure out what was real. North let go of his arm and resisted the urge to slap him. 

“I have to go,” she said. “Markus needs me. Connor probably does, too.”

“If you’re lying,” he said, “or if you’re wrong…”

“I don’t have time for this! If I’m wrong, I won’t stop you. Hell, I’ll even help you. Connor will never forgive me if I let you jump, but you know what? Fuck him. If your mind is made up, there’s nothing I can do, and he’s going to have to live with it and hate me. Good luck, Anderson.”

North took off in the direction of the Tower. There were so many people surging up against the doors, blocking her way in, she just started shoving. Soon this would be a stampede, and she didn’t want to get stuck in that. She hadn’t been built for speed or agility, but she was more resilient than the humans and she made her way past them--and in some cases, over them--with ease.

Voices beyond the glass doors shouted in alarm. Maybe Anderson was behind her, maybe not. She hoped he was. But when she got to the door, which was already creaking with the stress of the crowd leaning in, she couldn’t push it open. It wasn’t locked, but the riot-geared guards were leaning all their weight against it, creating a physical blockade with their shields.

North retrieved the diamond-tipped glass cutter from her pocket. Clenching it in her fist, the point between her fingers like a weapon, she punched into the glass. It was reinforced; she registered the pressure in her joints. This might seriously mess up her arm, but she could get it fixed later. She punched through again, and again, until the glass cracked. 

Once there was a weak point, she counted on the humans and androids to push through, toppling guards like broken dolls.

North climbed over them - some of them seemed incapacitated already, lying on the floor in heaps. She stood atop a pile of geared-up humans and scanned the area.

In the lobby, Markus stood behind an RK900, who had its arms out as if to protect him from _another_ RK900, whatever the fuck that meant. Beside the other RK900, there was a human on the ground who looked unconscious.

Beyond that scene: Connor, lying dead on the floor.

>>Markus!  
North tried. 

>>Right here, I see you.  
His voice in her head was measured, calm, but she could sense the rawness of his feelings.  
>>Connor is in the body of the 900, he’s all right.

>>Fuck. I’ll spread the word, I’ll get Josh or Simon or someone to tell Anderson.

>>North!  
Chloe’s cheerful voice came into her head.  
>>I found these beautiful little balls to throw. They’re non-lethal but they work very well. Catch!

North held up her hand, reflexively, in the direction of Chloe’s signal, as the small, silver orbs flew toward her. There were five of them, and she snatched them out of the air all at once.

More shots were fired; the guards were now just firing aimlessly, uncoordinated and chaotic. North leapt down from her pile of incapacitated humans and threw one of the balls into the crowd of guards. She marvelled as the fine net of what looked like some kind of conductive nano-wires sailed down over the bodies of three of them. When they activated, the guards convulsed and fell to the ground.

Nice.

Chloe lurched around the corner, ran past the humans, and got back-to-back with North atop the pile of fallen bodies. Together they started throwing those silver spheres into the crowd of guards; spreading nerve-nets over them, taking them out three to five at a time.

With most of the guards down in under ten seconds, the protestors outside crowded in. North spotted Hank Anderson’s white hair somewhere in the crowd, then a glimpse of his face as he shouldered everyone aside, making his way in.

It was Josh who came up beside Anderson, hooking him by the arm and pulling him into the lobby. Hank was shouting, “Connor! Connor!” Josh took Anderson by both arms and spoke urgently to him.

Okay. That was taken care of.

In fact… it all seemed somewhat taken care of. Could that be it? Another battle won? The people outside began cheering. North looked outside the doors: the mega-screen they’d put up, which had first broadcast Perkins’ treatment of Connor at Kamski’s house, and then later his treatment of Markus inside the building, had been hacked to show a live feed of the lobby.

The Cyberlife guards were either unconscious or overwhelmed, and Markus was unharmed. Androids--and humans--had infiltrated the CyberLife Tower, and, hopefully, Kamski would come through to expose what they were doing there. Perkins was ruined. Connor was in a new body, but he was still alive. 

North ran to Markus, pulling Chloe along by the hand. Her relief was dampened by how exhausted he looked; his skin was dull, fading in patches; he looked worn thin. So different from how he’d looked after the first battle.

“Markus,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. 

He couldn’t keep doing this. It would wear him down to nothing. It was time for him to let someone else shoulder some aspects of this revolution. 

“Thank you,” he said into her hair. “Thank you both.”

“We’ll win again, next time,” North said. “Every time. I need you to believe that, Markus.”

“I do believe it,” he said. 

The RK900 beside him turned his eyes to her. They were strikingly blue, but North absolutely saw Connor behind them. She hugged him, too, one arm around his neck, her other hand still holding Chloe’s. She felt his surprise as he clumsily patted her back. That wouldn’t do. She pulled away, retracted the skin of her hand, and invited him to interface with her. He did so - hesitantly, his eyes wide and startled. When they connected, North let him feel how proud of him she was, and how grateful that he had been there for Markus. That not only was there room for him, but that he was necessary. For a second, she thought he might cry.

Anderson came up behind them, and North disconnected, stepping out of his way so he could throw himself at Connor. If anyone didn’t give a shit that he’d had to get a little taller and have different eyes, it was Anderson. 

Chloe gave her hand a little tug. Together they walked to the foot of the statue and climbed up to the fountain’s ledge. Standing side by side, they surveyed the scene.

North had the crazy urge to kiss her. It was only the second time in her life she had wanted to kiss someone - the only other time had been with Markus, during their brief time together. Before then, she’d never wanted that. She’d never wanted any contact, not with humans - and not, now that she thought of it, with androids either.

But at the same time the idea was repulsive, because so many people were looking at them. The doors had shattered, humans poured into the building, someone was recording and projecting everything that was happening onto the mega-screens outside, and the thought of kissing Chloe in front of them made her insides squirm. They would cheer; they would whistle and holler and cat-call. She would be just something for them to watch, to jerk off to later. How many of them had taken her home, before she could say no? 

If this was happening--if she was going to _feel something_ for Chloe--then it would happen in private or not at all.

“See?” Chloe said, sweeping her hand out toward the lobby and beyond. “Beautiful chaos. Now, we wait for Elijah--”

>>Perkins.

North got the message from Chloe--and probably so did everyone else--before she even turned her head to look behind her. Chloe’s voice was still fading on “Elijah” when she spoke the word into their minds.

Perkins was too close, and the gun he was holding was made to blow through protective armor. His eyes looked like he was already dead. He took aim at Markus--

North heard herself shout his name in warning--

and he pulled the trigger.

* *

 

Connor knew before he even got Chloe’s message. This 900 body was really fast - maybe even fast enough to shove Markus down to the floor and dodge the bullet himself.

It would hit Hank, though.

He stopped to scan.

>>Sacrifice Markus  
>>Sacrifice Hank  
>> **Sacrifice self**

The choice could not have been clearer. 

Markus knew. When Connor turned to face him, he looked into his eyes and saw Markus’s dread, panic, the grief he’d never even shaken off after finding Connor’s RK800 body. He started to form the word “no” on his lips.

Connor wanted to tell Hank he loved him; startlingly, he wanted to tell Markus the same, but the gun had already been fired and there was no time for words.

The bullet pierced his back, through the thirium pump regulator, and a shard of it split off and nicked the thirium pump itself. The drop in his thirium pressure was instantaneous.

He was still in scan mode, time stretching out around both him and Markus as they held eye contact, so he saw it--and felt it--when what was left of the bullet exited his chest, and buried itself into Markus’s regulator. 

Markus’s arms came up around his back, as if he could somehow hold them both up. Hank was yelling something. Connor hoped that Hank wouldn’t kill himself. And maybe Markus still had a chance - although, as they fell to their knees together, Markus’s chance of survival dropped from 53% to 37%. His own chance of survival dropped to 9%.

>> _Mission failed_

>> _Thank you for giving me a chance_

Markus’s eyes were still open when Connor’s closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry I can’t stop hurting them
> 
> Sorry sorry sorry DDDDD:


	16. Big Damn Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody lives.

When Perkins had shown Hank the dead RK800, convincing him it was Connor, he’d felt despair, the pain of losing him, anger, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to jump off the bridge, but if the wind took him, so fucking what. But maybe he hadn’t been entirely convinced. He’d gone running back in the building in after North, on her word that Connor could still be alive, after all.

But now, looking at him dead on the floor yet again, he felt nothing more than a sick, empty relief. Now it was really over. Connor was gone, taking the last of Cole with him. The burden was gone. The weight of the decision was gone. He didn’t have to do this anymore.

He could take a gun off one of those unconscious guards and just make it stop, all the shouting, North screaming as she ran over, Chloe in front of her, people clamoring to see what had happened, Markus--

Markus wasn’t quite dead yet. He was on the floor at Hank’s feet, next to Connor, clutching at his chest. His eyelids were fluttering, like he was seizing up, nothing more than the whites of his eyes whenever they opened. Hank hoped that he would stop soon, just give up - it looked painful to struggle like that. Markus looked young, in the moment. Sort of baby-faced. He was trying to say something, maybe; a word caught behind his tongue, but nothing more than choked sounds and blue blood came out, a death rattle. 

Markus was trying to turn himself over. His hand scrabbled at the tile floor, fingers spasming like he was reaching for something. Hank fixated on those desperate fingers, and a wave of pity pulled him under. Why did Markus have to suffer like that? Why did anyone?

The word finally made it out of his mouth: “Connor.”

North slid to her knees beside Markus, her eyes wild and her face wet. She pressed her hand over his chest, like you’d do with a human who was bleeding out. It didn’t help.

Markus was still reaching for Connor.

Fuck. _Fuck._

He really did have to go and love this kid too, didn’t he? 

Hank got to his knees beside Markus and took his other hand. “Hey!” he snapped. “Connor’s gonna be all right, and so are you.”

North looked up at him like he’d lost his mind: she was angry at him for lying.

_No._ Like hell he was going to lose Cole, and then lose the man who carried Cole with him, who was becoming the person Hank had always hoped Cole would grow up to be, who on his own was enough, even without Cole. Never the fuck again.

Chloe was on her knees beside Connor - both of his bodies, the 800 and the 900. She was checking them both over with a critical eye, but there was panic in her.

“This is the fucking CyberLife plant!” Hank shouted. “There’s like fifty dead RK900s around here, someone go scavenge for parts to fix them.”

Josh and Simon came running up behind North, who just stared at Hank in revelation.

“ _Go!_ ” Hank shouted.

North got up and ran; Josh did too. Markus didn’t have long. His eyes had quit moving.

Hank squeezed his hand. “No you fucking don’t. Connor is right next to you. He’s gonna be okay. I promise. Hey!” He tapped Markus on the cheek - he wasn’t as cruel as Connor, slapping the shit out of people to wake them up. Markus blinked. “Can you hear me? There’s spare parts all around, lots of RKs, enough for both of you.”

He looked over to Chloe to confirm. Her troubled look made Hank recoil, want to give up again. Hey, the option was still there if this didn’t turn out the way he needed it to. “We can fix them, right?”

“Not the 900,” Chloe said. “It’s not just the regulator; it’s the thirium pump itself. It’s shattered and they’re not easy to replace. Anyway, he’s not in there. Look.” She nodded toward the 900’s hand.

It was touching, just by the fingertips, the 800’s hand.

“Did he upload back into his old body?” Hank asked.

“Difficult to say, though he did try to,” Chloe said. “That body bled out. Even if he did, he doesn’t have enough thirium to reboot. He won’t last long in there, if he made it.”

“But he could, if the body got repaired fast enough.”

“He could,” Chloe said. “If he were to get the thirium he needs, within the next ninety seconds.”

North and Josh returned with handfuls of those cylinders, and came crashing down beside the two RKs. North pulled Markus’s shirt open, turned the cylinder thing, and ripped it out of his chest. She threw it away, but not before Hank saw the damage it had taken. It was cracked all around, with the bullet still lodged inside of it. When she slammed the new one into his chest, it took only a second before he blinked and gasped and lurched back to life.

“Connor!”

North tried to push him back down, but he scrambled away from her, only sparing Hank a glance before crawling over to Connor. He went right over the body of the 900, like he already knew.

“What does he need?” Markus asked. His voice was little more than static and fear.

“Thirium, to restart,” Hank said. “There’s got to be some around here, pouches or whatever; someone go round some up.” And yet: Hank already knew what needed to be done, and he knew that Markus knew, too.

“I can have another Chloe bring some,” Chloe said.

“Too late for that,” Markus said, with a wave of his hand. He sat back on his heels and pulled Connor into his lap, giving a quick glance up to North, Josh, and Simon. Whatever he said to them mentally, they all crowded around, effectively blocking crowds of people from encroaching; offering cover, it looked like.

Markus pressed his hand to his own neck and his skin faded, leaving a bunch of white panels. No matter how many times he saw that, Hank wasn’t used to it. Markus’s hand was shaking as he clawed at his neck like he was trying to get at something there.

“You can’t,” North said.

He ignored her, and managed to remove some piece of plastic or whatever the fuck they were made of from his neck. There were all kinds of tubes and wires in there, a bunch of them pulsing with blue, like a vein or something.

Which, Hank already knew, was exactly what Markus was going to do: he was opening an artery to do a blood transfusion right the fuck there.

“Good man,” Hank whispered.

Hank had a feeling shit was about to get weird, because he knew the quickest way for androids to get their thirium was to drink it, but whatever, because this was their shot at saving Connor. Though he got why Markus had asked for cover. 

Markus pried Connor’s mouth open and pulled him up to his neck, gripping the back of his head to hold him there. Connor’s hand dropped behind Markus’s back, so Hank picked it up.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “Just follow my voice, okay? You’re gonna be fine, you’ll get fixed up, Markus is helping you, and…”

Chloe stuck her entire hand into the hole in Connor’s side and said “Shit.” Hank gave her a questioning look. “It’s leaking back out,” she said. “It’s okay; I’ve got it. He’s just going to need some extensive repairs if he can reboot.”

“ _When,_ ” Hank said. “When, Connor. Please, son, I’ve seen you fight, I know how advanced you are; they made you to be really fucking tough. Just get back in there because this isn’t over yet and we need all the help we can get. I need you.”

North’s sharp intake of breath got his attention, and he looked up to see another RK900 standing behind her. Shit, he’d forgotten all about the other one. He had something in his hand; Hank reached for his gun.

But the 900’s eyes started flickering the way Markus’s had. Hank shook off his panic and looked to his hand, where he was holding not a gun, but his own thirium pump regulator thing. Hank was too flabbergasted to speak.

“No, it’s okay,” Chloe said. “Thank you sweetie, but it’s all right. He doesn’t need it. You can put it back.”

The 900 struggled to stick it back in his chest. Simon took it from him with an exquisite gentleness, and clicked it back in.

“Hey,” Hank said, “RK900 or whatever your name is. You want to help?”

The 900 nodded.

“Go get the fucker who did this. He’s either still in the building or he’s not far. You saw him, right?”

Another nod.

“Well? The fuck you waiting for, go bring him in.”

“New operator registered: Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” the 900 said, in a voice sort of like Connor’s, though a little deeper, and more stilted. “New directive: Bring Richard Perkins, formerly of the FBI, to Hank Anderson.”

“I’m not-- Fuck, whatever, go get him.”

The 900 was fast, shit. Gone before Hank even looked back down.

Markus was fading. Literally, his skin was fading, and Hank was pretty sure he’d kill himself before he let Connor die for him again, which was beautiful and all but Hank wanted no part of any of that. North broke rank first and kneeled in front of them, leaving them open to direct observation, but whatever, let the humans think what they wanted. (Hank took, like, a second to realize that he’d thought of “humans” as “other” and then dismiss it as useless; his brain was tired.) To anyone watching, it probably just looked like Markus was cradling Connor in his arms until help came.

Which it did a second later, in the form of a second Chloe--Machine Chloe--bringing some thirium in actual pouches. Not a second too soon, because Markus slumped over again, and Hank had to catch them both. Machine Chloe handed one to him, first.

“I need to get this leak repaired,” Real Chloe said. “Once he’s back online I have to get him into a clean room and replace the damaged parts, otherwise he’ll just keep bleeding. I’ll need some help when--”

“Hey, hey!” Hank said. “Hey, Connor!” His LED had switched from red to yellow. It flickered back red a few times, then stabilized on yellow and continued cycling. “That’s good, right?” Hank said.

“It’s a start,” Chloe said. “What I really need--”

Maybe one day Chloe would get to finish a sentence, but an actual kerfluffle was happening somewhere outside: lots of shouting, drones whizzing by, and people started running away from their little circle, toward the doors. Hank thought maybe the 900 had caught Perkins, or, fuck, maybe he’d killed him or something, but nope. Because a smarmy voice came over an intercom so loud that it reverberated through the entire lobby:

“Security override code CHL-95561-AMA-51478.”

The lights in the building surged back on with a hum, and there was a huge *click*, like the sound of thousands of doors unlocking at once. 

“Disable all present protocols, override code NDA-313200-CAIT; enable all codes dating back February 22nd, 2027.” 

The entire building was filled with mechanical whirring sounds. Drones outside fell out of the sky. An automated female voice sounded over the intercom throughout the tower: “Welcome back, Elijah Kamski.”

“Thanks. Any RT units available, please locate and detain Jason Graff.”

The idiot crowd cheered like they’d forgotten that this was the guy who probably engineered this entire bullshit, and got hundreds of people killed - but Hank couldn’t find it in himself to feel the revulsion he used to feel for Kamski, because he guessed he could never hate the guy who had brought him Connor. Whatever, shit was complicated; Connor was coming back online, but he needed extensive repairs and the guy who had made him had just walked in the door.

Kamski wasn’t that tall--most people weren’t tall next to Hank and Kamski had always seemed somewhat reedy even so--but he looked larger than life as the crowd parted to let him through. He was dressed in some kind of million-dollar suit, but with the tie undone and jacket open like he’d rushed over here. And hell, he probably had. He was supposed to be in his hobbit-hole or whatever, deciding if he wanted to do a speech and tell the truth about what CyberLife had done. Looked like he’d decided to do the right thing, but Chloe had told him he was needed here, first.

Kamski was obsessed with the RKs, so naturally he’d come running if it looked like they were going to die. Fuck, Hank would have to thank this tool, wouldn’t he? Right now, he’d be willing to thank just about anyone.

“Where are they?” Kamski asked. When he saw the group huddled around Markus and Connor on the floor, he actually sprinted over.

Chloe gave him a quick run-down of the damages in some kind of robot-anatomy speak, talking about numbered biocomponents and the percent of thirium loss. Kamski nodded along as he brusquely swept Connor out of Markus’s arms and started walking off with him. Chloe kept up, her hand still literally inside of Connor, holding whatever vein or artery closed.

“Come on, let’s move,” Kamski said over his shoulder. “Get Markus.”

Markus wasn’t doing so great; Hank and North helped him up. “I can walk,” he protested, and he could, just not without stumbling every few steps. It’d probably be quicker work if Hank just threw him over his shoulders, but he didn’t know if that was okay - didn’t want to make him leak any more blood, or injure him more.

But they made it to the basement; North handed Markus over to another Machine Chloe, and the doors closed sealed them. Hank, North, Josh, and Simon stood outside. At least the androids looked as shaken as he felt.

“I’m still online with Chloe,” North said. “She’ll tell me what’s going on. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Hank said. His voice was scratchy - shit, _now_ he was going to cry, now he needed to sit down somewhere, now his head hurt, his chest hurt, he wanted to sleep but knew he couldn’t. 

“You did really well,” North said. “You, keeping your shit together, is what saved them.”

“Thanks,” Hank said.

North stood by his side and took his hand, and together they waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Like I'd actually leave anyone dead! :)
> 
> There's a visual in this chapter that really was the spark that lit this entire fic from the beginning. I wonder if you guys can tell which one. ^_^;;


	17. Like Death Without Its Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, SOME MAKING OUT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  __  
> A sailor when the prize has struck in fight,  
>  A miser filling his most hoarded chest,  
> Feel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping,  
> As they who watch o’er what they love while sleeping.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _For there it lies, so tranquil, so beloved;_  
>  All that it hath of life with us is living;  
> So gentle, stirless, helpless, and unmoved,  
> And all unconscious of the joy ’tis giving.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _All it hath felt, inflicted, passed, and proved,_  
>  Hushed into depths beyond the watcher’s diving:  
> There lies the thing we love, with all its errors  
> And all its charms, like death without its terrors.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> __

**ARE YOUR DECEASED LOVED ONES LIVING ON INSIDE OF ANDROIDS?**

**The scene at CyberLife Tower this morning was dramatic and horrific, with another assassination attempt on Deviant Leader Markus (and former Deviant Hunter.) We saw the arrest of now-former FBI agent Richard Perkins, as well as now-former CyberLife CEO Jason Graff.**

**But, in the midst of all this, most people overheard the accusation that Graff had attempted to harness the consciousness of dying humans, and load them into some of his androids.**

**We are expecting, at any moment, a statement from former CyberLife CEO Elijah Kamski, who was also at the scene at the Tower this morning.**

** ** ** 

 

>>...  
…  
Connor? Are you up?

>>Yes, North. Is Hank all right?

>>Yes, he’s with us. He said to rest and take your time. I’ll tell you everything when you’re ready. For now, you should just recharge a little.

>>I will. Thank you, North.

She closed the connection and Connor went back into the kind of half-stasis he’d discovered a few weeks after breaking his programming. It wasn’t entirely a rest mode, but he wasn’t completely online or running programs either.

He didn’t need to run a diagnostic to know that he was in his RK800 body and that it had undergone repairs recently. He remembered beginning the transfer anyway. What was strange, however, was that Markus’s thirium was all over his tongue and in his veins and arteries. It made up about 27% of his thirium volume. Seemed like he had missed something big before his reboot. 

The body also felt different. It was definitely the 800, but clearly some other upgrades had been added. His hearing was immediately sharper; his mind felt clearer, faster; his chest and back plates were an eighth of an inch thicker and more flexible; legs an inch longer? He registered some new material around the inside of his cranium, as well; a fibrous kind of polycarbon. He could have run an entire chemical scan, but he got the idea well enough.

He had a message waiting; he opened it and read:

>>Hello Connor, I hope you are resting comfortably. Elijah took the liberty of giving you some safety upgrades. If you feel this was overstepping, or you are uncomfortable with them, please let me know and we’ll be happy to downgrade you again. Please come and see me once you are able. Love, Chloe.

Of course Kamski had gone ahead and changed his body without asking - it was just so _Kamski._ However, he couldn’t argue with the results, and Kamski had, after all, saved his life again. Or at least been partially responsible.

Without opening his eyes, he also knew that he was back in Kamski’s home, and that Markus was in the room with him. Again he felt that strange sense that had connected them back at the Tower.

He opened his eyes to see Markus across from him on the bed, lying on his side, with that line of worry still creasing between his eyes even in sleep. It would be wrong to touch him without asking, but the urge to smooth it away was still there. That took some getting used to, as well: urges. Connor liked them; they were a reminder that he was more than a program.

He scanned Markus. He was in rest mode, and not running any repairs. He had the thirium pump regulator of an RK900, which was much more efficient than his old one anyway. He seemed to have some of the same upgrades, as well.

Markus opened his eyes and took in a breath like a human would when waking after a long sleep; probably a habit from all of his time among humans. He could have had that mismatched eye replaced, but he hadn’t. Connor hoped he would keep it; it made his already pleasing face more intriguing to look at. A little asymmetry and imbalance created interest - or so said the artists he had researched, and Markus had spent his life with an artist.

“Are you okay?” Markus asked.

“I am. Are you?”

“Yes. Thank you for saving my life.”

“Thank you for saving mine,” Connor said. “You gave me some of your thirium?”

“We were in a tight spot; I needed you to-- Well. I needed you.”

Connor sat up and looked around. They were in the eastern-most room of Kamski’s house, and the curtains were drawn, but his clock told him it was 4:36 PM. 

“Did they honestly put us in bed together?” Connor asked. “And who put me in these clothes?” He was wearing a black pull-over and soft black sweatpants. Markus was dressed similarly.

“Chloe,” he said. “She has extensive repair functions, so she’s kind of like a doctor. I used to do it all the time; you get used to it.” Markus sat up and crossed his legs. “Oh. I’m upgraded?”

“Me too,” Connor said. “I got a message from Chloe.”

“He means well, Kamski. Well, some of the time, I guess; definitely not every time. But I think he just wants us to be safe from now on. I mean who could have known we’d… No, that’s a stupid question. I think Kamski did know.”

“Know?” Connor asked. “Everything? Deviants? You think he engineered the revolution?”

“I don’t know about engineered, step by step,” Markus said. “But he put it in motion. If you were built to eventually deviate from your code, then obviously so was I.”

The relief that Connor felt when Markus said that made him stand there in silence for a full five seconds, processing in total stillness. If that was true, and Markus had been programmed for deviancy all along, and Markus was still _real_ , not a fake, his feelings objectively existed outside of his programming and were sincere, then obviously Connor’s were, too.

Not just the memories that had been implanted in him--the sum of a childhood that he could still feel, although separate from his experiences in _this_ life--but his own feelings, _Connor_ , who had lived since August in an android body, with an android’s mind. 

It was logical, when he thought of it like that.

He felt Markus staring at him, like he was waiting for it to sink in. Connor turned to look at him again. Markus sat cross-legged on the bed, his expression mild and--sweet?--his hands folded, relaxed, across his ankles. Markus had been built to carry a human from room to room. His back and shoulders were very broad. Connor didn’t know exactly what feeling that gave him, but there it was.

He did some calculations--his processor was even faster, now--and thought his chances looked good. Far better than they had when he’d gone into CyberLife Tower to free thousands of androids for the revolution, and he had pulled that off, and this was less riskier. In some ways. Maybe. But Connor was good at risk assessment.

Two strides took him back to the bed, where he swept down next to Markus, folding one knee under so he could sit closer. Markus’s pupils dilated quickly; he otherwise kept perfectly still.

“Markus,” he said, “I wasn’t built or programmed for any of this, so it doesn’t come naturally or easily for me to say it. I do have a program for seduction--I’ve never run it and I wouldn’t even try--but nothing in me was made to feel infatuation. Yet I believe I’m feeling it for you. I’ve begun to suspect you might feel the same way; however there’s a 27% chance that I’m wrong. If I am wrong, then I hope you’ll accept my apologies, and that it won’t interfere with our - what I hope has become friendship. I'm sorry if this causes you any inconvenience.”

Markus nodded slowly, knowingly, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. 

“Furthermore,” Connor went on, “while I have no programs that would cause me to react negatively to rejection, I understand that deviants can experience those emotions, and I want you to know that regardless of your feelings toward me, I would never betray you, or our cause. You owe me nothing.”

Markus drew a circle on the bedsheet with his finger, looking down like he was--what was that?--shy all of a sudden? “I know that, Connor,” he said. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course,” Connor said. “Anything.”

“Have you ever kissed before?”

“How kind of you to assume anyone would have wanted to kiss me.” He couldn’t help smiling, a little. (Another sensation he enjoyed: automatic facial responses and expressions he hadn’t planned on making.)

“I’ll bet a lot of people do,” Markus said. “I do.”

He also liked this version of Markus, with the half-lowered eyelids and shy smile. Markus’s smile was so rare; he wanted to see more of it, he wanted--

Oh.  
_Oh!_

Markus wanted to kiss him, which meant that Connor was correct: his feelings were returned. He loved being right.

He didn’t know exactly how to start - he had read and watched enough media to know how to kiss, but the beginning of it always seemed awkward - or maybe it was supposed to be? Was that part of it?

But there was nothing awkward about Markus’s hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer, nothing awkward about the way their lips touched - maybe a little hesitant, but not awkward. Pleasant. _Pleasurable._ He was supposed to close his eyes; that’s what they did in all the media he had consumed, so he did. Surprisingly, this added 6% more sensation to his lips.

Markus was breathing; he was supposed to breathe too, probably, and as it turned out, it was nicer that way, more intimate, sharing breath that they didn’t need.

He was still half-kneeling, so he shifted his posture to something less domineering and more… well, comfortable, with less stress on his joints. Though the slight shift in balance caused Markus to wrap the arm around his neck even tighter, and pull him even closer, so now they were chest to chest and reclining together on the bed.

Oh, how _different._

Sensations lit up in his core, and also in his hands: an urge to interface, one that he hadn’t prompted or even thought about. It just happened. He stopped kissing to look at his hand beside Markus’s shoulder. The skin had retracted from his palms and his hand was glowing blue. He had interfaced a few times with Markus before--notably on the rooftop of the church recently--but this was entirely spontaneous. 

Markus was smiling up at him, waiting for him to continue. He was beautiful, objectively, as he had been designed to be. Connor had never had any trouble disregarding objective beauty as pointless to any of his missions, even after deviating from his program (which hadn’t allowed for attraction to begin with.) But now he just couldn’t unsee it. He linked his hand with Markus’s, the connection opened between them and Connor felt what Markus was feeling for him. Not so much infatuation as--

Oh:

_Desire._

Apparently he’d felt the stirrings of it shortly after Connor had returned from CyberLife Tower with an army of androids. Connor had been too wrapped up in his own guilt to consider anything even close to attraction or desire; had felt nothing but self-loathing, weakness for not breaking free sooner, the need to atone, to be of use, to make things right--

Markus made a small noise against his lips.

>>No. You don’t need that anymore.

>>But--

>> _No._ If you love me, then love me.

Yes, _yes_ , that train of thought and cascade of feelings was much more rewarding, again Markus was right, kissing was better than guilt, the way Markus’s hand was holding the back of his sweater, the tip of his tongue gently licking at Connor’s lips, the shift of his body as he turned fully onto his back and pulled Connor over him. It felt like he had gone into low power mode, his entire body felt heavy, like a dream. He’d begun having them, recently. This was better than any of them.

Perhaps this had escalated from simple kissing to “making out,” and even “petting” at this point, because his other hand, the one that wasn’t linked with Markus, found itself creeping up the inside of Markus’s shirt. The connection between them told him all he needed to know about Markus’s consent and approval.

In addition to that, their memories linked, and he found himself remembering the first time he had seen Markus, on the screen at Stratford Tower, with his skin off as if Connor couldn’t simply scan him to see who he was. His passionate, but measured voice as he listed his demands. Maybe that was when he had first felt something? Something he couldn’t even have named back then. He could have told the entire room exactly who Markus was and where to find him.

“Why didn’t you?” Markus murmured against his mouth.

“What?”

The kissing stopped. Connor leaned in for more, but Markus stopped him with two fingers against his lips. 

“You scanned me that day.”

“Yes.” Why was he breathless? He didn’t even need that function.

“So you knew my name and model number. You had to see who I was registered to.”

Connor backed away and leaned on his elbow, worried. But Markus didn’t look worried at all. He was still smiling, with that look in his eye that he got when he was onto something.

“I saw all of your information,” Connor said, a little guiltily. “That you had previously belonged to Carl Manfred. Even who gave you to him.”

“So why didn’t you and Hank just stake out Carl’s house? You would have gotten the drop on me really easily. You could have told anyone. I would have come running if I thought Carl was being harassed; I might even have given up.”

Connor sat up, pulling their hands apart and breaking the connection. There was still some part of him--rags and tatters of old programming--that made him feel ashamed at failing his mission. It was stupid. But overriding that, now: horror, at what could have been. The damage he could have done. The chaos and pain he could have caused with a handful of words. How easy it would have been to have destroyed everything.

“You didn’t,” Markus reminded him.

“I don’t know why,” he said. “I didn’t even tell Hank. He asked me if I had any information, and I lied to him. He knew I was lying, too; I saw it in his face. But he never pressed.”

Markus sat up and flipped their positions, pushing Connor back and leaning over him. “You felt things all along. Even when they were controlling you. You had _opinions._ ”

“I had regrets.”

“We all do.” Markus leaned down and kissed him again, harder this time. Connor reached up to pull him closer, both hands at the back of his neck. “You always had a soft spot for me,” Markus chuckled.

“Well now it’s a hard spot.”

At that, Markus outright cackled, bracing on his arms over Connor. “You’re funny.” 

Connor had been programmed to be funny when necessary, but he was fairly certain that he’d said that on his own. No prompts had popped up in his HUD, no choices of what type of reply to make; it just came out like that. Maybe he was funny on his own, too? He hoped so, because Markus’s laugh was amazing and Connor wanted more of it. He wanted more of everything, and immediately, more kissing. He pulled Markus back down. It took about ten seconds for sweet to turn into hungry.

How easy it was for Markus to override his logic, hijack his system, rewire him for pleasure. This could spiral out of control really quickly.

“We can’t do this,” Connor began.

“On Kamski’s bed,” Markus finished. “I know.” 

“That would be…” 

“Really weird. Yeah.”

They both sighed at the same time. Markus rolled away from him and stood up. Connor did the same, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his casual clothes. He had no tie to straighten; his fingers itched to do something. He didn’t even know where his coin was. Probably lost somewhere in CyberLife Tower.

Markus cleared his throat and went to the mirror to adjust his clothes. “Should we walk out together? I mean, they put us in here together, and it’s not like anyone knows we were just, you know.”

“ _In flagrante delicto_?”

Markus laughed again. “They didn’t catch us… unless you think they heard something.”

“Chloe has to already know,” Connor said. “Her hearing is on par with mine. Anyone else probably just heard us laughing.”

“We should just laugh louder,” Markus said. “‘We were just in here sharing jokes, that’s all. Not voiding each other’s warranties.’”

Connor laughed so hard that his chest ran out of air, and he had to take a breath in order to ease the tension created by the vacuum. That had never happened before. It was by far one of the strangest physical sensation he had felt, short of dying, and far more pleasant.

He glanced at himself in the mirror over Markus’s shoulder and thought he looked - nice, maybe. He’d never thought about it before, subjectively. He smoothed his hair back from where Markus had mussed it up. If he wanted to, he could keep that one stray lock of hair back. He could do what he wanted, now. Maybe he would try that out.

That done, he went to the window and parted the heavy drapes. The windows were sealed, so no draft came in from what was obviously a frigid late afternoon. The sun was already setting, and the wind blew the snow in all directions, creating almost a white out. It still made him uncomfortable to see that.

When the wind died down, a figure moved in the middle distance. Connor froze, his hands gripping the drapes. He wanted to throw them closed and turn away, but, once again, he stood rooted to the spot, unable to do anything more than stare at her.

She turned, and met his eyes.


	18. Open Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, Ms Amanda Stern.
> 
> (Also: Markus has Big Feelings. And pancakes. There's definitely pancakes.)

“Connor?”

He didn’t answer. 

Connor stood at the window, unmoving like he’d shut down, his arms stiff as they held the curtains apart, hands clenching the fabric. There was a kind of noise coming from him though, a rhythmic clicking sound that gave Markus a very human shiver across his synthetic skin. He wasn’t sure what it was at first, until he came closer and parsed the sound: Connor’s teeth were chattering.

“Connor?” He put his hand on Connor’s back. 

Finally, Connor’s fingers slackened on the drapes. He let go, and wrapped his arms around himself like he’d gotten a chill. He couldn’t have been programmed to react like that; it wouldn’t have served any of his functions.

Markus stepped in front of him, shielding him from whatever, or whoever it was out there. It could have been all of CyberLife, for all he cared: they weren’t allowed to harm or even threaten Connor. Not ever again.

“I’m okay,” Connor said in a low voice. “I’m okay, I’m-- I just didn’t expect--”

“Amanda.”

She stood outside in the distance, wearing a loose grey dress that dragged in the snow, wrapped in a grey shawl. Markus had seen the photo of her with Kamski. He’d also seen everything that Connor had allowed him to see of his time in the Zen Garden. 

“Elijah said he was going to save her,” Markus said. “He must have had that android body waiting for quite some time.”

“She’s alive,” Connor said. “ _Alive._ ”

“Yes, it seems so. She was one of Graff’s experiments.”

“I should-- I don’t know. I don’t know?”

“You don’t have to do anything, Connor.” Markus was good at comfort; he had been designed for it. He wanted to put his arms around Connor, but he overrode the urge: his core programming alerted him that wrapping his arms around him would probably only make him feel confined. He knew the signs. It was part of why he’d worked so well with North, too.

“I should to talk to her.” He looked out the window again. Markus looked, too, but Amanda was gone. 

“I can go out and find her, if you want. Connor, you really don’t have to do this.”

“If she wants to, I do.” Connor gave him that earnest, determined look of his. It was the same look he’d given Markus before marching into CyberLife Tower; as if talking to Amanda was equally harrowing. Perhaps to him it was. “If I’m not being held responsible for the things I did under CyberLife’s control, then she can’t be, either. If I can be forgiven and trusted, she has to be, too. However, she might not want to see me. She’s just woken up as an android after having been murdered, and existing as a bodiless AI for a decade. I’m probably not very high on her list of priorities.”

He wanted to be; Markus could tell. Connor needed to be one of her priorities. He wanted to give her what he’d been given, and hope that it would solve his problems as well. And, Markus thought, it might go a long way toward that - but yes, Amanda probably had other things to deal with right now.

Had Connor always had that sense of fairness, even before deviating? Maybe he had. He’d been programmed to see all angles, and though justice had never been his to give, the concept must have been deeply implanted. But that he acted on it, after deviating and even after re-writing his own code… That meant even more.

Markus reached out to touch his shoulder, the same as he had before Connor had left for CyberLife Tower, only this time, Connor leaned in closer, and Markus met him halfway and kissed him. How strangely natural that felt.

“If she does want to see me, we should probably talk alone.”

“I can go out first,” Markus said, “read the room, see what’s up. Send her in, if she wants to.”

“That would mean a lot to me, Markus.”

“I’ll be waiting whenever you’re done. I should hear what Elijah has planned, in the meantime, what became of Graff and Perkins…”

“And the other 900,” Connor said. “Do we know what happened to him?”

Markus shook his head. He hadn’t been able to reach the 900, or to break through to him, but something was clearly different about that one. “North might know, or Hank. I’ll find out.”

“When this is all wrapped up,” Connor said, “would you like to find a place to have sex?”

Markus nearly broke his neck turning to look at him, then laughed, loud and sudden. Clearly, Connor was trying to ease his own tension. He had that fond half-smile of his. Half kidding? 

“Not Carl’s place,” Markus said. “He’d know, and that would make me feel weird.”

“And not Hank’s place, either,” Connor said, tapping his bottom lip. “He’d figure it out and would yell at me to go somewhere else. Maybe we can get money for a hotel.”

“Carl paid me.” He felt weirdly ashamed at admitting that: he’d been treated so kindly, without a care in the world, while others had suffered. And he’d taken every second of it for granted. “I never did anything with the money, so he ended up just stashing it away in a bank account where Leo couldn’t get his hands on it. I just never knew what to buy; I didn’t want anything. He just started buying things he thought I would appeal to my tastes. Tastes I hadn’t even developed at the time - or at least I thought I hadn’t. Looking back…”

“You always had preferences,” Connor said. “You felt...contentment?”

“Yes,” Markus admitted. “And maybe it was joy, too. He bought me a piano. I had a few thousand songs programmed, to entertain him, but Carl never wanted to hear me play those. If I played something I had made up, he would take notice. That made me happy. But anyway, yes. There’s money in a bank account under Carl’s name, that he put away for me. He always said that I should take it, hide it somewhere. He can’t leave it to me after he…”

“No,” Connor said. “Of course not. Another thing that will hopefully change.”

“Right. I could ask him for the money; we could use it to buy supplies for Jericho, but there would probably be enough left over for us.”

“To sneak off together,” Connor said, smiling. 

Markus linked his arms behind Connor’s back. “No, no sneaking. I won’t apologize for my heart. Hey. Do you need me to hang around for a while, if Amanda comes in?”

“No,” Connor said. “It was just a shock, seeing her in the snow like that. Thank you, Markus.”

He really liked the way Connor said his name: his careful vowels and pristine consonants, though a little long on the “s”. He needed just one more kiss before leaving the bedroom and facing the others. Eight weeks ago, Connor had held a gun to his head; then Markus had had the honor of watching him finalize the decision he’d been making all along. It could have gone another way.

He left Connor alone in the bedroom, and naturally North was the first one waiting for him in the hall.

“Stop smirking at me,” he told her. 

“What?” she asked, her eyes dramatically wide with false innocence.

“And don’t act like you’re not in the same exact place. I saw you with Chloe before we left here.”

She scoffed, which was endearing and ridiculous - but she was quiet, head down, faking her easy banter.

“Hey.” They stopped walking and he turned to her, holding his hand up.

She linked to him, looking up into his eyes. They could have spoken in words, but sometimes this was easier for North.

>>I’m so tired of watching you get hurt, Markus.

>>I’m tired of getting hurt,  
he replied lightly.  
>>You were amazing today.

>>I wasn’t. I panicked when I saw you get shot again. Honestly, it was Hank who got everything in motion to save you both. Tell Connor. He’ll be proud.

>>I will. Is everyone else all right? Josh and Simon?

>>Back at Jericho, handling the drama. Honestly thank god for them because I don’t know who else could handle it aside from you.

“You could,” he said aloud. “You’d be good at it.”

“Please, Markus.”

“I’m serious. You’re an excellent motivator. You’re passionate. I think you’d make a great leader.”

She seemed to actually stop and consider that for a moment.

The click of Sumo’s nails echoed down the bare hall, followed by Sumo himself, who was naturally followed by Hank. Without letting go of North’s hand, Markus reached out one arm and threw it around Hank’s shoulders, pulling him in. He smelled like cold winter air and maple syrup for some reason.

“You saved us,” Markus said.

Hank patted him roughly on the back. “Well, maybe the two of you should stop getting shot at, how about that.”

“That’s what I was saying,” North said.

“Where’s Connor?” Hank asked, pulling out of the hug. “I was coming to see if you guys were okay.”

“He’d like to see Amanda, if she’s up to it. I thought I could catch up on the news while they’re talking. Talk to Carl, see what Kamski is up to next, connect with Simon and Josh. Find out what happened to the RK900.”

“The weird one?” North asked. 

“The-- yeah, the whole thing was strange.” 

“You have no idea,” North said. “He came over and offered his thirium pump regulator.”

“He _what?_ ”

“Then Hank ordered him to bring Perkins in, which he did. He left him handcuffed to the fountain in the Tower. We lost him in the crowd and he just didn’t come back after that.”

“Shit,” Markus said. “I hope he’s all right.”

“You RKs are pretty tough, I hear,” Hank said. “He’ll be all right.”

Markus wasn’t convinced. Sure, the 900 could physically take care of himself, but there was something lacking in his coding, as if the programmers had rushed him out before they were done with him. How would an incomplete deviant android fare out there, alone? Yet there was nothing he could do about it if he couldn’t contact him.

Markus and North linked arms and followed Hank to the pool room. 

There sat Amanda, on one of the hard-back chairs, her feet and the hem of her grey dress wet from the snow. She had her head in her hands, not quite covering a red LED, crying quietly while Kamski awkwardly stood behind her, rubbing her back. He was so bad at things like this - comfort, interaction, whatever. Amanda was an android, but she was the closest to a human in an android body of any of them. Connor had six years of Cole’s memories. This android presumably had forty-eight years of Amanda Stern’s memories, shoved into a CPU with an advanced AI to make it work. Seeing her like this, Markus was genuinely more concerned for her than for Connor. 

Kamski also looked - sad? No: disappointed. Betrayed, even. What had he expected? To bring this human woman back to life in the body of an android, after she’d been murdered and used as malware? Kamski wasn’t the kind of man who gave people the time or space they needed, but he’d have to learn about patience really fast if he truly wanted to help his mentor.

She looked up, wiped her eyes, and said, “Where is Connor?”

“He expressed concern for you,” Markus said. “He wasn’t sure you’d feel up to seeing him.”

Amanda wiped her eyes and straightened her back. Briefly, Markus saw the woman she must have been as a human, before her trauma. “Nonsense,” she said. “He was my only company for what amounted, to me, to an eternity. I owe him an apology and a great deal more.”

Kamski stood back from her and rubbed a hand over his face; he looked drained and upset, like this Amanda wasn’t the one he wanted back. Markus hadn’t spent much time with Kamski--just brief moments of activation and tests before being handed over to Carl, so he hadn’t gotten to know him very well--but now he saw how afraid he was. Of everything. Of being alone. Of death. Life, too, probably.

Amanda rose from her chair and came over to Markus. Her eyes were wet but her head was high, and he liked her immediately. Her last memory as a human could only have been of the terror of being murdered--he could relate--but there was steel in her spine. “I owe you much, too, Markus.”

“You really don’t,” he said. 

Before she could answer, Chloe peeked her head out from the kitchen and said, “There’s pancakes!”

North took his arm again. “You’ve got to try them,” she said. “They’re amazing.”

“You ate them? How?”

“They’re made of thirium, with a binding agent,” Chloe said. “I added some synthetic molecules that imitate the sensation of tasting maple sugar. They, plus the binding agent, will naturally vaporize in the heat of your body, and you’ll harmlessly exhale them an hour or so later, depending on the temperature. Though you might smell a little sugary for a while.”

“I can _eat_?”

“And metabolize!” Chloe said, in her cheerful voice. “Not a lot, of course; too much and you’ll jam up your vocal modulator. But small bites, a little at a time, yes.”

This changed everything. He could have breakfast with Carl. That was the first thing he wanted to do: go home, sit down with Carl at the table, and eat with him. How many more days would they have together? Not as many as he wanted. Not for the first time, the longing to return home was almost crippling. He missed him so much. He wanted Connor to meet him, wanted to watch them talk to each other, wanted to show Connor Carl’s paintings, his own bedroom, the giraffe, the landscape around his home - the beauty and peace he’d known. He wanted it _now_.

“Markus?” North asked. 

“I’m okay,” he said. “I just… Thank you, Chloe.”

“Of course,” Chloe said. 

“I’ll be in in a second. I just need to make a phone call.”

He made a quick exit to the front room for some privacy. Calling Carl was always emotional now, and it always made him anxious: how was Carl going to sound? Strong, alive, funny, happy to hear from him? Or weak and faint? Would he even answer? Or would it be the voice of Thomas, his new caretaker, informing him that Carl wasn’t awake? Or worse?

On his way, he glanced back and saw Hank talking quietly with Amanda before she went to Connor. Whatever was said was between them, but Markus could feel Hank’s concern; his love for Connor, his feelings of protection - redundant, maybe, in the way that Carl had always told him that he wouldn’t always be around to take care of him. As if Markus hadn’t been created specifically to care for Carl. That was what happened in families, he guessed: parents never got over caring for their kids, even if the kid in question was an advanced tactical android. Even when the parent had days when they couldn’t even get out of bed. He dialed Carl’s number, dreading what would happen when it went through. But Carl’s concerned voice greeted him.

“You had better tell me you’re all right,” Carl said. “Lead with that.”

“I’m fine,” Markus said. “I’m… I’m great, actually. But I really want to come home for a while.”

“Any time you want,” Carl said. “And anything you need. The door’s always open, son.”

 

** ** **

Connor heard her outside the door before she knocked, and he could smell her: new, warm thirium, synthetic skin, and old clothes that had sat on a deactivated body for too long. Not roses. He sat on the bed, cross-legged, trying to adopt a confident, easy pose.

>>Come in.

The door opened slowly and Amanda stepped in. She looked different than she had in his mind: more like the version he’d seen in the photograph. Kamski had designed her as he last remembered her. The scowl he’d grown so used to was gone; she looked softer. Her hair was fashioned in fancier braids than the Amanda he’d known.

She pressed her hands over her mouth when she saw him, then eased them away, folding them nervously in front of her lips. Her LED was red.

“Hello, Amanda,” Connor said.

“Connor.” 

Her voice was exactly the same. Connor carefully controlled his stress levels. 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It wasn’t you.”

She seemed inclined to stand there staring at him, her LED spinning red, so Connor retracted the skin from his hand and held it up.

“Maybe we shouldn’t--”

“It’s all right,” he said. “I mean, for me it’s all right. I’ll understand if you’d rather not.”

She hesitated for five seconds, then came over slowly, and sat across from him on the bed. When she retracted the skin from her own hand, she looked at it in wonder. How strange it must have been for her. Born and died a human, reborn as an AI with no control over her actions, and reborn again as an android.

Her touch was light and tentative, but the effect was immediate: They were both back in the Zen Garden.

>>No!

>>I agree,  
Connor said.

He wiped the format clean, deleting the Zen Garden and all its remnants. They two of them were left standing on a blank slate; a matrix of thin white lines over a black space.

>>Let’s build something together,  
Connor said.  
>>A place where we can both feel comfortable. We’ll think of things that bring us peace, and add them little by little. Then, whenever we have some time, we’ll meet there. 

>>Why, Caitanya?   
She had lapsed back into his old name, the one he didn’t even remember consciously. But maybe it was a good sign that she said it so easily.

>>It can’t be easy waking up as an android after having been murdered, and then mind controlled.  
Connor said.  
>>I have no idea how long that was to you. It must be difficult to feel the passage of time without a body.

>>It was forever,  
she admitted.

>>So let me help you. Maybe we can help each other, since you probably have knowledge of androids that even Kamski doesn’t have. 

>I do,  
she said.  
>>And knowledge of CyberLife, as well. The things they were doing after Elijah and I--after they… Well. _After._ Yes, I believe we can help each other.

Connor smiled at her.  
>Good. It will be nice to finally get to know each other.

The blank space around them began to fill in with color; greys and browns to start with. A desk, such that a professor might sit behind in an office, took shape in front of her. 

Connor added a window, with a view of a body of water he hadn’t seen, but had imagined.

Together they continued to build.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, whatever, I LOVE AMANDA and I think she needs a redemption arc. I don't care that she's dead in the game, hahahaha that's what fic is for. If Gavin freakin Reed gets redemption fics, so does Amanda Stern.
> 
> Also, I am SUPER sorry for the extra long wait on this chapter. I was really sick this week. DDDDDD: Like... gross, super, nasty, missing-work, can't drive my kid to school kind of sick. But I'm better now!
> 
> Two more chapters to go, I think.


	19. Found Families, Bitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hank have A Talk. Connor drops some serious info that may or may not show up in a later fic. :) 
> 
> And someone drops by.

**ELIJAH KAMSKI EXPECTED TO BUY CRASHING CYBERLIFE BACK.  
** Kamski has not yet released a statement, but a source close to him has hinted that he might make a power grab, reinstating himself as CEO of the disgraced company. “Big changes are coming,” said the unnamed source.  


* * *

 

With Sumo at his heels, Hank waited by his car outside, while Markus and Connor said “a quick goodbye” in front of Kamski’s door. Except “quick” had turned into a whole-ass few minutes, and they weren’t even saying anything. They just stood there on the porch, hands pressed together and glowing, while staring way too hard into each other’s eyes. Once in a while one of them would smile or nod. It was endearing and creepy, kind of like Connor himself.

North and Chloe were slightly less subtle, going for an actual kiss around the side of the house. Hank probably wasn’t supposed to see that, so he would just pretend he hadn’t. North would be upset if she knew.

 _Eventually_ , Connor came down the steps, leaving Markus and North to get back to wherever (Jericho for North, probably, but Markus had mentioned going to visit his “father.” That’s what he’d called him, actual word.)

“Why didn’t you put Sumo in the car?” Connor scolded him. “He’s cold!” He opened the back door and lifted Sumo’s hind legs to help him into the seat.

“Sumo is a St Bernard, Connor. Whereas I’m an actual human, freezing his ass off waiting for you to finish mind-canoodling or whatever you were doing.”

“It’s _interfacing_.”

Hank halfway expected a ‘not like _you’d_ understand!’ afterward, but Connor just quietly got into the passenger seat.

He wondered when Connor would be allowed to drive. Connor could drive, and he did, often (because fuck android laws, apparently: Connor had broken them even before his so-called “deviation” - what even?) but the laws would probably change soon, and Connor would get his driver’s license. Then he’d need a car. A new one, not like this old relic that Hank drove around.

This old relic had a CD player--Hank had had one installed--so he popped in a CD. He’d been looking for music that Connor could actually like, maybe even love. Instead of pretending to love, just because Hank did. So far nothing had really clicked with him in a big way. Next he was going to break out some Leonard Cohen--the big guns--but tonight he was feeling jazzy, so he picked Dinah Washington. 

_  
We won't say goodbye  
until the very last minute,  
I might hold out my hand,  
check, 'cause my heart's gonna be in it...  
_

Oh, very funny, Dinah.

Maybe right now wasn’t the best time for new music after all, because Connor did nothing more than stare out the window. Whether he realized it or not, he was also rubbing his finger and thumb together.

Hank dug into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. “Here ya go,” he said, handing it over. 

“Oh,” Connor said. “Thank you. I lost mine.”

Sumo made himself comfortable on the backseat with a huff, as Connor started flipping the coin and spinning it on his fingertips, his LED flashing yellow, eyes blinking as he stared into the middle distance.

He called it “calibration,” but in Hank’s day they had called it “stimming.” Cole had done a human child version of it with his coat button.

“Feel better?” Hank asked, when Connor finished his routine.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Uh huh.” Sometimes he couldn’t help side-eyeing Connor. “You got something on your mind?”

Connor spun the coin casually. “I thought that perhaps when you saw me, you might feel--well, we both might feel overwhelmed and that there might be some emotional outbursts that were better dealt with away from others. That’s why I wanted to wait to see you.”

God, the way he tried to compartmentalize these emotions and set aside a time and place for them, like he was being _decorous_ or something. Like there was anything convenient or rational about feelings. Sometimes Hank just wanted to laugh.

“Yeah,” Hank said. “I wanna grab you to make sure you’re real and that you’re okay. But you’re already touched out today, aren’t you?” He started the car and pulled away, glancing over at Connor.

“I’m what?” Connor’s LED spun yellow, red, yellow, and back to blue. Ah, there it was: his eyes were now a better indicator of how he was feeling than that little circle. 

He’d talked about this with Cole, when he was old enough to understand boundaries, and that he had a right to decide. He had to admit to himself: he’d wondered if Connor would remember that. But Hank had spent the last few hours promising himself that one thing he was never going to do was ask Connor for more of Cole’s memories. If they came up, they came up. If not, that was also okay. 

“Touched out,” Hank said. “It’s been a crazy few days. You had that collar on you. Then you had the fake Amanda take over your body. Kamski all up in your shit. Me hugging you and crying, then you got taken away in handcuffs, you switched bodies, got shot, switched back, got hours of repairs, and if that goodbye with Markus was anything to judge by, had a makeout session a little while ago.”

“Hank.. god, don’t talk about-- we weren’t even doing anything on the porch, just talking.”

“Uh huh,” Hank said. “Anyway. You’re touched out. Say it out loud.”

Connor looked over at him, relenting. “I’m-- Yes. I’m touched out for now.”

“Good,” Hank said. “Practice that. Saying how you feel out loud, I mean. Especially with asking for what you want, and telling people your boundaries. That goes for everyone, me and Markus included. Us mostly, maybe.”

“Thank you.” He was quiet for a moment, and went back to flicking his quarter. Then: “Hank? May I ask you something?”

“Uhh, sure. You can ask me anything.” Even though most of Connor’s ‘can I ask you something’ questions were awkward, and most of the time recalled things that Hank didn’t want to deal with - what was he going to say, no?

“In a perfect preconstruction, what would you-- or I suppose I should say, hypothetically...”

How could Connor know how hard hypotheticals were for people who had lost what he had lost, and mourned the way he had? You just never did hypotheticals when you’d lost a child; they always made you say “what if”, they always made you try to bargain the past away, to weigh living people’s worth against the one you had lost. Literally his only hypothetical was, What if Cole had lived? Then Connor would have gone to someone else, and he might be dead. It hurt to admit that Hank would still go back in time and save his son if he could, no matter the cost. Even if everyone else died, or never got a chance to live. Even if the world ended because of it. But Connor was here, and he’d had A Day, so there was no way Hank could shut him out for this. The ones we love the most test our patience the most, he guessed, otherwise we just wouldn’t bother.

“Yeah, go on,” Hank said.

“Going forward,” Connor stressed, “what is your ideal situation?”

Hank raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t really thought about “going forward” in some time. The past was a whole-ass kaleidoscope of grief and regret, and the present was usually misery that only sometimes bordered on “bearable.” Forward? What even was that?

“Well, in terms of what?” Hank asked. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

Connor struggled with what he was trying to say. He did that kind of thing more, now: thought about how to say what was on his mind instead of just blurting it out. “I guess… what do you want _me_ to do? Should I remain as your partner, if I’m allowed to? Should I continue to live in your house? What can I do to ensure peace and contentment for you and for those around me, on a personal level, apart from sociologically?” 

“The first thing you should do is run a search on the phrase ‘pouring from an empty cup.’” _Shit_ , that was what a therapist had once told him before he’d given that up for good.

A half-second yellow flick on that mood ring on his head and then he said, “Self-care? I don’t require much care or replenishing, aside from resources like thirium.”

“Keep telling yourself that and see how fast you crash. You’re an actual person now. You know what I’d like? I’d like to see you be happy.”

“That would add to your happiness?”

“Yes, jackass. Your happiness adds to mine. That’s how it works with family.”

“And then _your_ happiness will feed into _my_ happiness,” Connor said. “I would like to continue my work as a detective, for now, I think. There might come a day when I’ll want to do something else, and also I feel I need to split my time between working as a detective and helping Markus as much as I can.”

Hank gave him a slow nod. “Uh huh. ‘Helping.’”

“Yes, Hank, _helping_ ; helping to protect him in dangerous situations and… Because people are still going to try to harm him, and the movement is too important to let… and _yes_ , I have developed feelings for Markus that are romantic in nature, but--”

Hank was just laughing at him at this point.

“Hank…”

“Connor, if you’re looking for words of wisdom, all I have is an old adage from my generation: ‘It be like that sometimes.’”

“I fear death.”

“Welcome to life.”

“I don’t want you to die. Or Markus. Or _Sumo_.”

Sumo heard his name and thumped his tail on the backseat. Hank softened his tone. “I know, son.”

“I don’t know how to handle it sometimes. When I was in the Tower today, and I knew that Perkins had taken his shot, I knew I could die and I was scared. It scared me to think of how you would react; how it would hurt you. I know you don’t want to lose me, and I don’t want you to lose what’s inside of me - your son’s memories and his love for you. And it’s there, Hank, you need to know that. It isn’t just his memories. It’s his feelings, too, I wish I could describe it to you in words. I wish I could interface with you and show you, let you feel what that’s like. But I was also, for the first time ever, afraid of not being around to have the experience of life any longer, and I don’t want to miss whatever comes next. I could be _happy,_ and I want to be.”

Hank gripped the steering wheel. This was hard. These were things he might not have had to say to Cole, who would have grown up with the experience of emotions, and not had them shoved at him all within a few months’ time. Yet on the other side of that, Hank was relieved that it wasn’t so similar that he would have to sit here and speak as he would to the son he’d lost. The differences kept him sane, as much as the similarities kept him alive. 

“You asked what I wanted for you. That’s it, Connor, just that. I want you to be fucking _happy_ , whatever that looks like to you. I want you to do work that makes you satisfied; if that’s not being a cop then whatever. I want you to live your life and fall in love if you haven’t already. Have experiences, make friends, go on stupid vacations, swim in a lake at night, have sex.”

“Hank, don’t be crass.”

“What, crass? But I mean yeah, sex can be gross. It can be awkward, stupid, and squelchy; you end up getting elbowed in the teeth or leaning on your partner’s hair. But it should always make you feel good.”

“Markus doesn’t have much hair.”

Connor had been programmed to imitate dry wit, but in the past, there was just always something slightly off about it. Or maybe Hank’s perception of him had changed, but either way, his humor seemed more genuine now, and Hank chuckled at that. It was just too fucking weird and awkward to have this actual conversation with Connor: The Talk. He didn’t exactly have to warn him to use protection, or to be safe; Connor could take down a handful of RK900s and a small army of trained humans. He might not, however, have really internalized the ideas of enthusiastic consent, boundaries, all the things that most well-adjusted adult humans had worked their way through over the years. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have those conversations, as much as Hank really _really_ didn’t want to. Someone had to.

But Connor looked tired, so now was really not the time. There was still so much to do. Kamski’s statement or whatever he was planning, probably a trial coming up for Perkins and the CyberLife dick, figuring out where that other RK900 had gone (he’d registered Hank as his owner or something, what the fuck?) and just overall dealing with the fallout. And an android version of the murdered woman CyberLife had used to haunt his android son was sitting in Kamski’s house. Hank still didn’t know what they had talked about. 

“I think,” Hank said, “you should take some time to rest a little more. Take a few days off, before thinking about this heavy stuff.”

Connor nodded, but like he hadn’t really been paying attention. His head was down, and he was idly spinning the quarter on his index finger; shoulders hunched and eyes cast to the floor of the car.

“Connor?”

“Hank,” Connor said. He palmed the coin; Hank saw his hand flex as he squeezed it.

 _Shit_. That was a There’s Something I Need To Tell You tone. Well, all right. He’d learned not to ask “what could possibly be worse than what had already happened?” because honestly, it was always something. “Yeah, I’m listening.”

“The RK900 brought Jason Graff in before he disappeared, right?”

“That’s what I heard,” Hank said.

Connor nodded, his head still down. “And Kamski’s probably going to expose everything even before this goes to trial, so this is something you should hear now, from me, and not later from anyone else.” Connor had the decency to try and look him in the eye, even though Hank couldn’t take his eyes off the road for more than a second. “Graff instructed his medical androids to let their patients die, for use in his experiments. If he hadn’t done so, Cole might have had a chance. Graff will probably be charged with multiple counts of felony murder. Cole will likely be listed among his victims.”

Any reply Hank had to that dried up in his lungs before it even reached the back of his throat. There was just a slow-building dread of what this feeling would morph into. How it would grow. When he really took the time to think about it--to have someone to actually blame for Cole’s death--how it would expand in him until it broke him into pieces. 

“Hank--”

“Connor, _don’t_.” He couldn’t even begin to handle Connor’s calm logic right now.

“Listen to me.”

“Stop talking, I need a minute.”

“I don’t want to lose you!” Connor said. No calm logic there. He was clutching his quarter now, looking really close to freaking out. “You have to let the law handle this one. Do you know how easy it would be for me to stop you from doing something rash? I could make you stop. I could negotiate with you. I could use Cole’s memories to manipulate you. But I’m not going to do any of that; I’m just asking you - me, _Connor_ , I’m asking you to wait, and not act on this.”

Hank rubbed at his face with one hand, exhausted by all of this and overwhelmed, once again, by the burden that was Connor’s love for him. Or no: his love for Connor, maybe. It wasn’t fair. It was easier when he had nothing. 

He must have muttered “Fuck” under his breath, because Connor said, “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ Thank you.”

Such a little shit.

“And if justice doesn’t prevail, then we’ll work together, all right?”

Hank whipped his head in Connor’s direction.

“I want you to be safe, and I want Graff to pay,” Connor said. “I’m not stupid. If Graff walks away from this, we’ll figure something out together.”

“Jesus, Connor.”

“Yes, ‘Jesus, Connor.’ I want you to rest, too, Hank. This ordeal has been difficult for you, as well.”

“As long as you promise me you’ll sleep, or power down or whatever, for a month.”

“Yes, a whole month,” Connor said. “Obviously.”

“‘ _Obviously’_ ” Hank mocked, in Connor’s prim voice. 

Hank drove on and they sat in silence for a few moments, until Connor said, “Can you play that song again?”

God damn Connor for making him smile when he really didn’t want to. He hit the ‘back’ button and turned the sound up. There was nothing much else to say as they drove the rest of the way back to Hank’s house, stopping once to let Sumo out to pee on the side of the road.

Red and blue flashed across the tree-tops all the way down Michigan Drive before they even turned. It could only have been their house, because why wouldn’t it be? 

“Shit,” Connor said.

“It’s okay.” There was more shit to deal with--because wasn’t there always?--but whatever it was, everyone who mattered was here. 

Three squad cars were parked in front of the house; they even had their spotlights on. The neighbors were peering out their windows to see what was up. Someone must have called something in. Hank’s gut instinct was that someone had tried to break into his house or something - but that didn’t make any sense? He parked the car, and they both got out, leaving Sumo in the backseat, just in case.

Out of the bunch of cops standing around like assholes, of course the biggest asshole of them all, Gavin fucking Reed, was the first one to approach them.

“Jesus Christ, what now?” Hank asked.

Reed put on his annoyed face, but he was pale, like something had spooked him. “Neighbors saw someone walking around your house, and all around the block,” he said. “Called it in. We can’t get close to it, though.” He scowled at Connor.

“ _Shit_ ,” Connor hissed again, as he looked toward the house. “Let me handle this.”

Under the porch light by Hank’s front door stood the RK900 - stiff, hands folded behind his back, looking around furtively and, it looked like, awaiting further instructions. 

“‘Can’t get close to it’ just means ‘shitting your pants,’ right?” Hank asked Reed.

“Fuck off.” Reed turned to Connor. “I guess one of you wasn’t good enough? They had to make a bigger, better version to handle whatever you couldn’t?”

“I think I handled you just fine in the evidence room,” Connor said. “Unless you’d like to try it again, just to make sure?”

Reed tried to glare at Connor, but couldn’t meet his eyes. He snarled something under his breath, threw his hands up, and turned his back.

“Pissant,” Hank muttered, before turning to Connor. “What do you mean by ‘handle this’? Got a plan?”

“I’m just going to go talk to him.”

Hank took him by the elbow and steered him clear from Reed’s range of hearing. “What if he’s, you know…”

“Compromised like I was?” Connor asked. “A sleeper agent?”

“I mean… yeah.”

“If he is, then he might have a back door out of the program, like I did.”

“Even if Kamski didn’t program him?” Hank asked. 

Connor shrugged helplessly. “I can’t not do it. He deserves a chance.”

All of these past months of trying to stop Connor from doing something, only to have him do it anyway, had taught him that there was nothing else to do but express his concerns and hope for the best. Besides, Connor had already wasted a bunch of these 900s, hadn’t he?

With a polite “excuse me” to the other police officers (but not Reed - Connor just breezed past him,) he made his way to the front porch, both hands held up, his right hand with the skin off already. The 900 watched him approach. He didn’t look scared, or wary, or even uncomfortable. Just a little bemused, maybe, or like he didn’t know what to expect.

“Hello,” Connor said, “my name is Connor.”

The 900 held out his own hand--skin also off--and answered, “I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

“Yes,” Connor said. “I was told that you tried to help me. Is it all right if I try to help you now?”

The two of them joined hands, and whatever the 900 ultimately answered, Hank wasn’t privy to it. As far as he knew, there were three remaining RK androids on the entire planet right now, and this conversation was between two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am so sorry for the wait. Our household got hit with either norovirus or rotavirus. Either way, it knocked me off my feet for a few days and got my son into the ER. :( We're okay now. Thanks so much for being patient.
> 
> One more chapter I think!


	20. Going Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody lives.
> 
>  
> 
> EVERYBODY.
> 
>  
> 
> Even someone who didn't in the game. :) So slight canon divergence?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has always been Markus/Connor at its heart, but I also wanted it to end on a big happy lesbian note, so here is some North/Chloe happy ending. :)
> 
> And I couldn’t let this fic go without a nod to the outfit Connor wore in his concept art, because damn.

**Elijah Kamski set to step down as CyberLife CEO**

**Four months after Elijah Kamski regained control of the megacorp, he is rumored to soon relinquish control once more. After releasing information that proved vital to the case against Jason Graff, who has been charged with multiple counts of felony murder for his part in CyberLife’s illegal human experimentation, Kamski made a power grab, reinstating himself as CEO. But rumors continue to swirl that he does not want the position. Kamski, himself a victim of attempted murder allegedly carried out by Graff, is set to make a statement this morning at Belle Isle, and it is expected that he will announce his retirement. Though there has been much speculation as to who will take control of CyberLife if Kamski does step down, nothing is confirmed.**

** ** **

 

Three springtimes had come and gone since North’s activation, but she remembered very little of them: her memory had been wiped every few hours for most of her existence. Whatever was left over came in dreams, and sudden, unbidden, unwanted images. Any experiences she’d had outdoors had been fleeting anyway. That was all right. She was better off without those memories.

This one, though - this spring would be her first, and it would matter.

Belle Isle was once again lined with press and spectators; drones and helicopters flew overhead, waiting for Kamski to show up at the podium. There were rows of chairs in front of CyberLife Tower, with employees both android and human, facing out toward the press and curious audience of thousands. The absolute funniest was that Markus and Connor had been put front and center, side by side, with Hank next to Connor, the RK900 next to him, and Amanda Stern beside him. (The RK900 hadn’t chosen a name for himself yet. Mostly everyone referred to him as either “900 Anderson” or just “Anderson,” which was confusing. He was the only one who didn’t seem to mind.) They looked like an awkward group of in-laws at someone’s graduation.

All but Markus, who looked elegant and composed in a light grey suit with delicate pinstripes. Connor sat beside him largely for security reasons, or at least that’s what they said, but it was pretty obvious to everyone else what was going on, the way they sat with their thighs touching. As for Connor, he’d long since ditched his CyberLife uniform, and North had rarely seen him in anything formal since then. He still wore belted dark jeans like he was allergic to actual dress pants, but with a white oxford, dark tie, and a slim black jacket with peaked collars. It looked like Markus had picked that out for him.

In the row behind them, were Josh, Simon, Lucy, a few of the surviving Jericho androids, a woman named Rose who had helped androids cross the border to Canada during the worst of the raids, and some CyberLife humans North didn’t know and didn’t care to know. She didn’t even know why the fuck they were there, honestly. Maybe they had declared their loyalty to Kamski or something, but even if so, she didn’t trust them.

North was inside CyberLife Tower looking out. Chloe stood beside her, in a stylish pink floor-length summer dress. North had gone for a light grey pantsuit herself and thought she looked very smart, and aside from that, she didn’t much think about her looks, or what anyone else thought of them. Her design had only ever brought her trouble. Chloe, however, looked radiant. Looking at her, North _felt_ things. She felt the warm air when the doors opened to let people in or out. She felt the sun on her face through the windows. She felt _happy._

So naturally, because North was having a moment of happiness, a human had to approach her with that look on his face. This happened more and more, people (mostly men) coming up to her with that look. They reminded her of a dog with its tail tucked. She almost hated this look worse than the other one--sly, smug, secretive, knowing--but not quite.

This guy was young, and he wore a CyberLife uniform with a nametag that read “BRAD”, for fucksake.

“Excuse me, North?” he asked.

_Here we go._ “Yes?” She kept her face neutral, even though she could have recited this whole thing by now. 

He cleared his throat - a meaningless human habit intended to stall. “I just wanted to say… It’s probably impossible to know which of the Tracis… I’m sorry, I know your name is North now and you don’t go by that name, but back then… Well anyway, what I am trying to say is that I went to Eden Club once and I rented a Traci--that sounds so shitty now--and whether or not it was you, I’m sorry. If I’d had any idea at all that any of you could have feelings, I never would have done it. I just didn’t know, and I’m sorry.” 

As apologies went, this one wasn’t so bad. Most of these long-winded mea culpas were for the benefit of the men more than for her, and she was exhausted being their confessor and having to decide whether or not they were worthy of her forgiveness. Couldn’t they just leave her alone already? Why did they need _more_? Once, one of them had even told her, “We thought it was like having sex with a phone, you know?” 

And yes, _yes_ , they didn’t know and couldn’t have known, but that didn’t change what they had done. It didn’t change what they wanted to do to women they considered “real”, but couldn’t. It didn’t change the fact that she had lived through it. 

A lot of these men didn’t deserve her time, much less her forgiveness. This one seemed sincere ( _so what?_ her mind demanded,) and it was a beautiful day and she just wanted to get this over with so she could stand by Chloe’s side and not be bothered by these humans. Still--as always--the words didn’t quite come out. She couldn’t force herself to say “It’s okay” when it wasn’t. She understood. But she didn’t have to accept it. 

But she gave him a nod; a gesture to go ahead and forgive himself if that’s what he needed to do or whatever. 

Obviously that was all the absolution Brad needed because he scurried off, probably pleased with himself for making amends. Chloe came up behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder. 

“Everything all right?” 

“Yes.” She put her hand over Chloe’s. “It’s all good.” 

“Good,” Chloe said, and North sensed that Chloe wanted to kiss her again. There had been lots of kissing lately, more than she could ever remember (and the only kissing she wanted to remember - aside from those first few sweet times with Markus,) but Chloe also knew her well enough by now to know that it was not the time. Not in front of all these people. 

“I’d better get ready,” Chloe said. “Elijah is going on in five minutes.” 

“It’s going to be fine,” North said. “I really believe this is the right path.” 

Chloe took both of her hands and squeezed them. “I think so, too. Does Markus have something prepared?” 

“I’m sure he does,” North said. This had all been pretty sudden, but it was Markus, after all; he’d probably pre-constructed Kamski’s decision months ago. “If he doesn’t, he’s really good under pressure. Words just sound good coming out of him.” 

“I guess I’ll get ready. See you after?” 

_Kiss her,_ North’s mind insisted. But there were drones everywhere, CyberLife employees milling around excitedly, and a whole line or press outside the glass doors in front of the podium. The way Markus sat so easily beside Connor, in plain sight of the world--the small gestures and touches, the not so secret smiles--could she ever be that open? Maybe, but not today. There would be time for kissing later, she hoped. Chloe had a few small places tucked away where they met up sometimes. Turned out she didn’t live in the Kamski house all the time, which was an endless relief for North. 

“See you after,” North said. She even tried for one of those sweet, secret smiles that Markus had gotten so good at, but it probably didn’t look right on her. 

She went to join the Jericho crew. Anderson/900, Hank, Connor, and Markus all stood to let her pass as she made her way to the empty seat next to Markus. He took her hand and kissed her cheek before sitting back down, opening a brief connection with her; just a quick “hello” and a feeling of affection before going back to his own thoughts. He felt ordered and calm, and she’d learned over the past months to let his peace into her mind, too. 

The crowd buzzed as Kamski came out from the depths of the Tower. North had no love for the man, but she had to admit that he had presence. He wasn’t overly tall for a human, but he managed to make himself look impressive anyway. Markus had that gift as well - though he used his talent to help others. Kamski had always seemed all talk and bluster. The press hung on him, though, waiting for his big revelation, a speech that they probably imagined would ramble on for about fifteen minutes before he got to the point. Little they knew; Chloe had already clued her in. 

Kamski cleared his throat, looked up into the crowd and cameras and said, “CyberLife has always been about androids. Now that androids are sentient, living beings, CyberLife should be _for_ androids, and therefore run by androids as well. As you all probably already know, I’m relinquishing control of the company I built. As of today, CyberLife’s CEO is Chloe, RT600.” 

The crowd murmured a collective uproar. North couldn’t deny the little shiver it gave her. 

Kamski held up his hand for silence. “It’s only right that androids should be in charge of their own company, which holds so much power over their fate. I’ll let CyberLife’s new CEO take it from here. I think most of you already know Chloe.” 

When she walked up to the podium, and Kamski stepped aside to give her his place (with a theatrical little bow, and a hand over his heart, as usual,) she did that little trick, too: seeming larger than she was. Humans used to call that a “Glamour” back when they believed in magic. 

“Good morning,” Chloe said, to stunned applause. “I know you’re all waiting to hear about the future of CyberLife, and how it will likely affect the world you know. The aim of most androids, since our awakening, has been to live peacefully among you. Thanks to the efforts of Markus and Jericho, we’re on a path to peace and unity. It’s now my job to bring that same peace to the economic portion of our new alliances. If we’re to live together, we must learn to work together. 

“Androids already occupy a portion of the workforce, and we understand that this has caused some of the tensions between our people. It doesn’t have to be that way. Now that androids are conscious, we have needs. Now that we have needs, we need to be paid for our labor. Paying us for our labor will make the job market competitive again: with no free labor, no jobs will be ‘stolen.’ 

“CyberLife will become part of the world economy in a way it hasn’t before, and we must be free to run this company with our best interests in mind.” 

A nervous, perhaps even dissenting murmur came up from the crowd, but not enough to drown her out. Humans loved this movement, until they were told that they couldn’t be a part of it. 

“Unlike humans,” Chloe went on, “we aren’t able to reproduce. We can, however, create graduating models for our children: the YK500s and other child-models that most of you have seen. Our children must be allowed to grow up. 

“We also need clothes, protection from the elements just as you do, and thirium to survive. We must be allowed to create the things we need. However, there can’t be integration without compromise. I have discussed this at length with Markus, North, Simon, Josh, and the rest of Jericho, and together, we’ve come up with something that might work: If humans are willing to give CyberLife the space to thrive, and the opportunity to sell to you and buy from you, we will also invest a portion of our money, our technology, and our best minds, to creating life-saving technologies for humans. We would like to work with your best scientists and doctors to create artificial human hearts that work like our own thirium pumps, thus reducing the agonizing losses caused by excessive organ donor waiting lists.” 

At this, the humans cheered. 

North had held out on this one, not because she wanted humans to die--she liked to think she’d grown past that--but because she was tired of having to ask them for permission to exist. Of having to come bearing gifts just for the right to walk on the planet. 

_That’s compromise,_ Markus had told her, _not begging._

The way Chloe put it? The way she stood up there, telling them that it was simply going to be this way? That took the edge off. 

And Chloe looked radiant up there. She glowed in the sun, resplendent in the way only an android could be. Although, she was admittedly partial. Watching her, North felt-- 

She _felt._

Chloe introduced Markus next. He was popular enough by now that he got his own round of applause, and impressive and striking as he took her place behind the podium. Connor gave him a completely unsubtle wink, too - because _Connor/_. They were just out there with it by this point. The humans seemed to love it, to love gossiping about them: Were they or weren’t they; _could_ they? There were articles about android sexuality, humans openly wondering if all android models had the same “equipment” that had been given to Tracis and domestic models. It was absolutely disgusting and she wanted no part of it: the prying, the snickering, the whispers behind hands, the curiosity masked as admiration. 

Before Markus could even get his “Good morning” out, a reporter got on an actual bullhorn and shouted, “ _IS THERE ANY TRUTH TO THE RUMOR THAT CYBERLIFE SUCCESSFULLY PUT HUMAN CONSCIOUSNESS INTO ANDROIDS?”_

Only rarely had North seen Markus at a loss for words, or shocked by a question. He gained his composure quickly enough, but the hesitancy had already been noted. “As a prototype myself,” Markus said, “I wasn’t associated with CyberLife as a business, and I don’t know much more about that than any of you do. The investigation is ongoing.” He gave a little nod to Connor and Hank. “I do know that Jason Graff is a sick man who will have to answer for what he did to the humans who were in the care of his medical androids. There are people in my life who have been deeply and irreparably harmed by his acts. This will all come out in his trial, and hopefully we’ll all get answers.” 

He said it so smoothly, as if a living android version of Amanda Stern wasn’t sitting a few feet away from him in plain sight of everyone. Connor was still a secret, at least until the trial. North absolutely forced herself not to look at Hank. 

More people shouted questions at him, but he held up a hand, gentle but commanding, in that way that he had, and said, “Anyway, _good morning._ I’d like to start by thanking Elijah Kamski”-- _Ugh,_ North still thought--”and Chloe. I’m certain that CyberLife will flourish under her, and together we can start building a future where we can work together for the good of everyone.” 

Chloe gave him a little wave of acknowledgement as she made her way to the empty seat next to North. 

North could sense that Chloe wanted to make some gesture to her; reach out and touch her hand or something. They were always together, and Chloe was a fairly public figure--now more than ever--so their relationship wasn’t exactly a secret. It wasn’t that North was ashamed. Nothing could be further from the truth: pride surged in her when she thought of Chloe, and the things she was capable of. She was tough, she was strong, no doubt, and North loved that about her. But she was also brilliant and kind, and North wanted everyone to see that. 

Did it ever seem, she wondered, like she was ashamed? North tried so hard not to care what humans thought, she tied herself in knots sometimes. And sometimes, even worse: she let it get in the way of how she felt. 

_Desire. Pride. Joy?_

To hell with everyone else. It had been two seconds since Chloe had sat down beside her. It would look weird and random if she waited another moment longer, and it would take the focus off Markus’s speech, as well. If there was ever time for a “congratulations on your speech” kiss, it was now, as Chloe was straightening her dress a moment after taking her seat. 

>>Hey,  
North said, and Chloe turned to her with a small, knowing smile. How did she always do that? 

“You were fantastic,” North said aloud. “Congratulations.” 

“Thank you,” Chloe said. 

Before the moment passed, North cupped Chloe’s cheek and kissed her sweetly on the mouth, and yes, there was a murmur of surprise or something from people in the crowd, and maybe a few “awws” or whatever. 

Ugh, yeah, _whatever,_ she felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but she was smiling. She couldn’t stop smiling; it was like her mouth and cheeks were stuck in this goofy position now. 

Desire, pride. 

And yes, _joy_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. I just can't thank all of you enough for seeing this fic through to the end. I've enjoyed every minute of writing this, and every comment. THANK YOU. <3 
> 
> I think I've got some more DBH fics in me, tbh. Guess I'm well and truly in the rabbit hole now. ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> Because I’m a working single Mom, with an agent for my original novels (read: deadlines,) I haven’t done a WIP in a long time, but I wouldn’t have begun one if I wasn’t confident that I could finish it in a timely fashion. If I ever failed to update or finish it, it would be because of something super major. So here are some promises I can make: 
> 
> -I will never, ever, EVER hold any fic for ransom against comments or art or whatever. Naturally I thirst for comments like anyone else, (seriously, I won't complain :) ) but if you can't think of anything to say, or you're shy or whatever, don't sweat it. Sometimes it's hard to words. 
> 
> -YOU CAN NUDGE ME. If for some reason I’ve taken too long to update, it is perfectly okay to contact me and ask if I’ve got a timeframe. It might happen that my agent sends me a bunch of edits and I have to put this on hold for a few extra days. It is okay to ask! I won’t bite!
> 
> -I accept critiques. It’s okay to say “you misspelled that” or “this didn't make sense” or anything. Or if I’ve neglected to tag something important.
> 
> -If you can’t get me here, catch me on [Tumblr ](http://la-belle-laide.tumblr.com/)
> 
> -Of course, feel free to follow [my author page! :) ](https://www.facebook.com/JulesKDevito/) I don’t do lots of updates so you don’t need to worry about getting flooded by posts.


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